Tuesday, May 03, 2005

My Ass is Smokin'

It shouldn’t come as any surprise that Larry & I enjoy having things done for us. By nature, our people prefer being catered to. So who are we to mess with the evolutionary process?

We recently bought a new SUV and went for all the bells & whistles. At a time when a gallon of gas is rivaling a pack of cigarettes, only the two of us would purchase a car that runs solely on premium gas. No hybrids for us; give us something with seven seats and ten cup holders.

With this new vehicle come special features that like many new owners, we learn the hard way. See gay men don’t read manuals; we play with every button and knob until it either works … or breaks. And thus was the education with our new MDX.

The MDX is a lazy man’s dream car. Somewhere embedded among all the things that don’t really matter to me like alternators, break pads and timing belts, there exists a vehicular intellect. Something so innate, the car reacts to outside forces before the synapses in our brains tell us an action needs to occur.

Drive into a parking garage, and the lights automatically illuminate. Is there something following you with their brights on? Not a problem, the rear-view mirror will dim the reflection to make it easier on your eyes. As you put the car into reverse, the right side mirror angles down so that you can see how close you are to the curb.

And most impressive, the windshield knows when it’s wet. Seriously! My son’s diapers are not this advanced. The freaking windshield wipers will turn on when they sense moisture. They’ve gone on when the car in front of us washes its windows and spray from their car lands on ours. It’s a technology I adore. This is what gay men live for!

And yet with all this expertise, there lies one flaw. Like the perfect lover who somewhere in the relationship fails your expectations.

As we drove home from Charlottesville this past weekend, from a visit with our dear friends, Grace & Bob, we were enjoying a leisurely ride home. The sun was shining on this gorgeous spring day and wind was lightly dancing through the open car as we propelled through the countryside. The sun was in the west, so it shone onto the driver side.

At first, the wind helped keep me cool, but as time progressed, the heat became unbearable. We shut the windows and turned on the air. Sweat began trickling down my forehead as I continued increasing the cold and downing bottled water. I grew more and more uncomfortable. Finally, I pulled over to remove my soaked long-sleeve shirt and change into a tee shirt.

Larry looks over and says, “Babe, you had the seat warmer on high for the past 45 minutes.”

It seems that moisture can only be detected on windshield and not on my back or neck. My vehicular soul mate has finally made known its weakness. SIGH.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ah, yes, the beauty of seat warmers. You see, Dave and I too, purchased a gas guzzler as the pump keeps increasing (our trip to see you all was the baptism). I love my seat warmers and can't start the morning without them . . . leather on the backside isn't so nice in the early AM.


10:23 AM  

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home