It's interesting to examine the thoughts that bounce around on your synapses as you sit in a parked, running car in a garage. It's a slow, peaceful way for alot of suicide victims and, although I'd never consider taking my own life, you can't help but think about the suicidal possibilties of your situation. Kathleen sure as hell would be a comfortable way to slip off into dreamland. That front bench really is comfortable on a bony, white-boy's ass. The invention of bucket-seats truly was the death of sex in the American automobile.
Bodily contact is out of the question.
Definately an automotive invention of the Moral Majority. But back in the day, you had a great big bench seat in the front which could easily seat 3 or accomodate a couple horizontally and the dash was far enough away that your date could straddle you when you were parked on the cliffs above the town while Sinatra poured like honey out of the AM Wonder-bar radio. Some say that the econmization of the American Automobile was a product of the gas crisis. That it was a sign of our progress in metalurgy, polymers, and performance. That it's gone on to actually make us a more driver-oriented culture.