Kurzbeschreibung
Ever got hot on the highway?
It’s an adult fantasy that’s built upon a youthful reality. I don’t know about you, but almost all of my earliest significant sexual experiences took place in a moving vehicle of some description.
It wasn’t deliberate, and it certainly wasn’t planned. It’s just... where else were we expected to go? It’s why the western world is still littered with Lovers’ Lanes, and long after the drive-ins rolled up their screens, we all have friends who lost their innocence to the splash and slash of an all night creature feature. Our parents used the car to get from A to B. We used it to learn the birds and the bees.
That is the world to which these eight short stories return us, those wonderful years when parents or room mates or whoever held a curfew, and bed rooms and back rooms and bathrooms and all were out of the question for more than a cuddle.
So we took to the highway, the wide open road, with the wind in our hair and Bruce on FM, and I still say a silent prayer of thanks to the speed cop who seemed happy to believe that I was simply resting my head in my boyfriend’s lap, and who didn’t even ask him to move the jacket I’d been resting under. He’d probably seen it all before anyway and hey - he was young once as well.
Not that every story here takes place in the front seat. We begin on a Greyhound, and take a bus too, and we even get diverted to a motorcycle sidecar. What they all have in common, though, are youth and exuberance and, most of all, escape. Escape from reality, escape from authority and, most of all, escape from inexperience and ignorance.
Travel broadens the mind, they say. The travelers here have very broad minds.
It’s an adult fantasy that’s built upon a youthful reality. I don’t know about you, but almost all of my earliest significant sexual experiences took place in a moving vehicle of some description.
It wasn’t deliberate, and it certainly wasn’t planned. It’s just... where else were we expected to go? It’s why the western world is still littered with Lovers’ Lanes, and long after the drive-ins rolled up their screens, we all have friends who lost their innocence to the splash and slash of an all night creature feature. Our parents used the car to get from A to B. We used it to learn the birds and the bees.
That is the world to which these eight short stories return us, those wonderful years when parents or room mates or whoever held a curfew, and bed rooms and back rooms and bathrooms and all were out of the question for more than a cuddle.
So we took to the highway, the wide open road, with the wind in our hair and Bruce on FM, and I still say a silent prayer of thanks to the speed cop who seemed happy to believe that I was simply resting my head in my boyfriend’s lap, and who didn’t even ask him to move the jacket I’d been resting under. He’d probably seen it all before anyway and hey - he was young once as well.
Not that every story here takes place in the front seat. We begin on a Greyhound, and take a bus too, and we even get diverted to a motorcycle sidecar. What they all have in common, though, are youth and exuberance and, most of all, escape. Escape from reality, escape from authority and, most of all, escape from inexperience and ignorance.
Travel broadens the mind, they say. The travelers here have very broad minds.
