It was on the Ohio Turnpike outside Cleveland.
They had a hotel, restaurant, gift shop, and full service gas station with auto repair.
My dad's specialty was repairing flat tires. My mom worked in the gift shop.
The first time my dad saw my mom she was across the parking lot changing a tire on a 1953 F-100 (my grandparents had a farm). Naturally I asked him if that's how he made his introduction. I figured he walked over, introduced himself , and offered to change her tire as the knight in shining armor.
Nope.
He said, "She looked like she knew what she was doing." He continued to sit there watching her along with the other grease monkey.
That pretty much summed up their 50 years of marriage. My mom never knew that story until a couple years before my dad died. She was pizzed!
Last edited by Otto Skorzeny; 09/16/2022 10:15 PM.
