It had been her thing, the old Morris Minor. That and hats. But the hats were more because Grace felt self-conscious of her forehead.
The Morris, as she called it, had been her grandfather's car, and he left it to her because they had shared a special bond.
So, it seemed only natural to drive The Morris. In hindsight, she could have predicted they'd be stuck on the side of the road on their way to the Big Wedding Cake.
It had been a rash decision to elope. They'd been out partying, were walking home, stopped off at the 24/7 shop, ate meat pies when the paper delivery van whacked a pile of papers right at her feet. The thought that had been in her mind was how much in love she was with Peter. On the front page of the paper were two stories, one announcing the solar eclipse and the other the grand opening of some new Big attraction.
Australia was littered with Big Pineapples, Big Bananas. Now, there was the Big Wedding Cake.
The next thought to wade through her drunk-stupor was her grandmother's advice. When you find a good bloke, keep him. Tie him up and lock him away.
Once they woke, she bustled Peter into The Morris. There was no explanation why he needed to wear his work suit. There was no explanation of where they were going.
Other cars were passing them on the freeway, and Grace felt a panic that The Morris would not get them there on time.
She wanted to marry Peter at the Big Wedding Cake just as the sun was reappearing from the other-side of the moon. It would mean their love would shine brightly after the years of darkness.