37 years ago this weekend, Mrs. Perils of Caffeine and I had our first date. I was a senior at our suburban Toledo high school, she was a sophomore, and we’d been flirting for a year after meeting in band. We had gone to an away basketball game because I was covering them for the school newspaper. Afterwards, I drove her up to her house in my dad’s 1960 Chevy station wagon (never a favorite with fathers of my dates), we kissed, and the poor thing is still trying to find the door handle.