Henry Ford Gave Us Sex in Cars

Henry Ford was a God.  No, not because he invented the car or even because he invented the assembly line.  No, Henry Ford was a God because before Henry, there was no sex in cars.  But then he bestowed, upon us, the backseat. 

Today, your average car will do 0 – 60 in less than 6 seconds.  And women know that most guys do the same thing.

Sex in cars is as American as Apple Pie.  I believe there used to be a commercial like that.  “Baseball, hotdogs, Apple Pie and sex in a Chevy.”

And it truly is an American thing.  In America we make big luxurious cars.  Perfect for having sex in.  Did you ever try to have sex in a small foreign car?  Years ago I was getting hot and heavy with a girl in her Mazda Miata when she suddenly said, “I can’t do this with you.  It’s way too small.”  My ego was seriously deflated until I realized she was talking about the car. 

Another time we tried again, so I moved over from the driver’s seat to get on top of her in the passenger’s seat.  It was at that point that I slipped and impaled myself on the stick shift.  Now, everybody knows that the Miata is very popular in the Gay market.  I, personally, know why.

Fortunately, in America we have SUV’s or Sexual Utility Vehicles.  These things are bedrooms on wheels.  I mean with the fold-down seats, the dual DVD players and the optional ceiling mirrors which mine has, what could be better?  In fact, some SUV’s are so big, you can actually have sex standing up.  Oh, you think it’s a coincidence they call it a Hummer? 

Of course, if you plan to watch an adult video and have sex in your car, you need to follow two simple rules.  Rule 1 – The car should not be moving at the time.  Rule 2 – You should not be alone!  Tracy Pope of Aiken, S.C. was recently arrested for not heeding either of these rules.  It’s really true.  I couldn’t make this stuff up.  http://media.www.dailytitan.com/media/storage/paper861/news/2006/10/16/News/Driving.With.Porn.Americas.Latest.Distraction-2352138.shtml

Recently, my girlfriend and I started making out in her car.  One thing led to another and we ended up having sex in her car.  Sex in a car when you are 40 is far different than sex in a car when you are 17.  When you are 17, you worry about getting pregnant.  When you are 40, you actually have to remove the child car seats from the back seat before you can do anything.

We discovered some other problems too.  For instance, while we were having sex, my foot accidentally hit the GPS system.  Do you know how unnerving it is to suddenly hear a strange woman’s voice say,

“Move 3 inches to you left.  Move 2 inches down.  Now go faster.  You have arrived at your destination.”

My girlfriend, on the other hand, thought it was the best sex we ever had.

But if that wasn’t enough, she accidentally hit the OnStar button. 

“This is OnStar how may I help you?” the voice said.

My girlfriend moaned.

“Are you ok?  Are you hurt?” said the voice.

My girlfriend moaned again.

“Ok,” said the voice, “An ambulance is on its way.  I’ll stay on the phone with you until they get there.”

My girlfriend then screamed.

“Ok, calm down,” said the voice.  “Everything will be ok.”

I started to moan. 

That was about the time the ambulance arrived.

Copyright 2004 – 2008, Glenn G. Millar

Love Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry . . . Oh Puleeeeeeease!

In the movie “Love Story,” Ali McGraw says to Ryan O’Neal, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”  It was incredibly romantic line that helped define the movie. Since this movie was made in 1972, I can only surmise that the writer was still high on all the drugs he had been doing in the 60’s. 

Love means never having to say you’re sorry?  Oh Puleeeeeeeease!  Actually, not only does love mean having to say you’re sorry, love also means buying flowers and expensive jewelry on a regular basis just to counteract your screw-ups.  In fact, men do this so much, women have begun to expect it.

Many years ago when I was happily married and still madly in love, I decided to do a really romantic gesture.  I decided to buy 4 dozen roses for my wife.  My plan was to create a path of rose petals from the garage, up the stairs into our house and into the bedroom, where the other 3 dozen roses would be.  So I went to the florist and I got my 4 dozen roses.  And when I got to the counter, the sales clerk actually said to me, “Wow, whatever you did must have been really bad.”

Not that I was immune to screw-ups in my marriage.  How could I not be wrong? I have a penis.  Have Penis + Wife Disagrees = I am wrong.  I believe this is known as “Descartes Law of Maleness.”  “I talk, therefore I’m wrong.” 

Actually my wife and I pretty much had a 50-50 split on arguments.  Half the time I was wrong and the other half on the time she was right.

Fortunately, I learned to counteract this inherent flaw in my genetic code by learning the I’m Sorry Head Nod.  Whenever I was wrong (defined by when my wife thought I was wrong and I didn’t feel like arguing) I got to do the I’m Sorry Head Nod.  This is actually a very simple procedure that any man can perfect with just a little practice.  First, hang the head slightly down, somewhere between 45 and 70 degrees.  Less hang than 45 degrees is not enough to show real regret.  More than 70 degrees and you are in serious danger of looking whipped.  Women don’t like whipped.  Women like strong men . . . who can admit they are wrong.  It’s a very fine line; one that the flying Walendas would have trouble balancing on.

Next, say the words, You are right.  I was wrong.  I’m sorry.  It is important to clearly enunciate.  Mumbling just pisses them off even more.  They think we are faking it.  Let me rephrase.  They realize we are faking it.  Of course, we are always faking it, but if we fake it with sincerity they might just buy it. 

Sometimes one repetition of You’re right, I’m wrong, I’m sorry, will be enough.  In fact, the first time you say it, it usually is.  It catches them off guard.  There she is going off about how if you really loved her you would put the seat down, and you say, You’re Right.  I’m Wrong.  I’m Sorry.  She doesn’t know how to respond.  Suddenly, she is like a deer in the headlights.  “What is this?” her mind is saying.  “We were not expecting this.  He admitted he was wrong.  This does not compute.” 

If you try this strategy you will notice a sudden confusion in the female subject.  Think of it as the female equivalent of the computer’s blue screen of death.  Unfortunately, like the computer, she really only needs about 5 minutes to reboot and then you are back to square one.

Well, maybe not.  Most women will accept a real apology and will no longer be mad at us until the next time we screw up.  Unfortunately, this is typically 16.2 minutes later.  

Copyright 2004 – 2008, Glenn G. Millar