Everywhere we go, somebody’s staring. We’re not doing anything special—just laughing loud and talking like we always have. But apparently, two grinning Oklahoma boys with wives in tow sound like a tornado warning in a library over here.

Our first date was dinner, horror, and a Karmel Korn catastrophe. I tried to impress Tina by playing it cool after spilling caramel popcorn across the movie theater floor. She didn’t run. She married me. That’s the story. That’s Crunch Life.

The summer before we could drive, we chased cool on ten-speeds—twelve blistering miles from Picher to Riverview Pool. What started as a ride for freedom became a journey into sunburns, daredevil dives, and baby oil goddesses. We thought we were chasing cool. But we were just riding home.