June 1, 2011

SAM SHARPE

I’m firmly ensconced in my 30s. Not old. Not young. Just young-ish. It’s an age where one feels young enough to be out on the town and maybe even in the club while also wondering why the music’s so loud and why you’re not at home re-watching season three of The Wire. When you reach your 30s, so much of what you used to do in your “youth” still sounds like a good idea but the reality is usually far different.

Like having sex in a car.

For the record, I was once the undisputed middleweight ‘champeen’ of automotive sex. In the driver seat. In the passenger seat. In the backseat. On the trunk. On the hood. In a school parking lot. In the mall parking lot. Outside a donut shop. At night. In the afternoon. At sunset. At the crack of dawn. Lollygagging by a park. In the girl’s parent’s minivan. With the seats folded down. While eating a burger. In a rental car. In my mother’s car.

Notice I never said in my own car.

That’s because I had a hard and fast rule against automotive coitus in my own ride. It’s bad luck. Anyway. The point is I’ve had tons of sex in cars. I’m guessing many, if not most of you have too. But there comes a point in every champ’s life when he needs to hang up his gloves. My time may have come the minute I stumbled out of my mom’s car at  1a.m., with my pants chilling around my ankles, my c*ck giving a military salute while some middle aged couple just happened to walk by whistling Dixie. Who does that? The nerve of some people defiling our public spaces by taking a walk, didn’t they know I’d have my dick out?!?!?

Or maybe it was the time a girlfriend decided to give me head while I was driving. In a snowstorm. Slippery road and all. If not for my quick thinking and snow tires she might be a paraplegic and my nickname might be Stumpy McStumperson.

The truth is probably more mundane. I probably just grew up. Probably. I mean, reflecting on my past automotive exploits does give rise to plenty of mirth. And a little embarrassment mixed with a little twinkle in my eye. I often think to myself why not, why don’t I get into the backseat of a sedan with a comely lass and fornicate all over the leather seats? Then I remember how cramped automotive sex can be. Then I remember how cramped my legs get after sitting at my desk for half an hour, much less playing Cirque du Soleil inside of a Toyota. Believe me, 30 is not the new 20. Whoever said that probably never had sex in a car.

That’s enough out of me. But since we’re on the subject of sex and cars, take a look at the following clips. I think you’ll get a chuckle. The second one might even make you want to learn Dutch.

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