Auto Eroticism

The four of us are on a road trip to Provincetown. We've been driving something like six hours, so the batteries on our cellphones are dead, we're coated with dust from peanut butter pretzels, and we've stopped at forty rest stops. Rudy says it's because he had a Big Gulp, but I say that's what he's looking for.

We're somewhere in Rhode Island when a car pulls up on the driver's side. I always glance over: Alec Baldwin is somewhere in the universe, so sooner or later I'm bound to get lucky. The other guys look over too, but we see two gorgeous blondes staring back at us. We turn away disappointed. Better luck next time, I think.

A few seconds later there's frantic honking, and we look over again. I'm thinking they want to tell us we've got a flat tire, or our car has burst into flame, but nobody's yelling or pointing. Where the passenger was sitting, though, there's something big and pink and fleshy plastered up against the glass.

The four of us stare, our eyes wide as raccoons. "Jesus Christ," Bill exclaims.

"What the hell is that?" Ted asks.

"A muskrat sitting on a pepperoni pizza," I suggest.

"Okay," he replies. "I'll go with that."

We turn and stare straight ahead. For a while we drive in silence, trying to ignore the car shadowing ours. Eventually we hear high-pitched laughter coming from that direction and then the women floor it, vanishing even quicker than they appeared.

"Right," Bill declares, solemnly flipping his cellphone open. "I'm calling the police." He hits a couple of buttons but the thing's too dead to beep.

"That was absolutely disgusting," Rudy snips. "How do straight men get near those things? It looked like a walrus swallowing Alex Trebek."

"It's something you need to see at least once in your life," I lecture. "Otherwise how can you be sure you're gay?" I glance over at Rudy's skintight short-shorts, teal tanktop, bleached-blonde highlights and wonder why I even speak at all.

"That confirmed it for me," Rudy says. "I'm just glad it was behind glass."

For a few minutes we discuss how horrifying it was. Rudy holds the car's armrests wondering if shock is going to set in. Occasionally we shake our heads, trying to erase the memory like an Etch-a-Sketch. Finally Ted pops up with the last thing I'd expect. "You know what we should do? We should try to catch up."

There have been stupider ideas. In Santa Monica there's a falafel stand shaped like a giant foot. "Great idea," I say. "I can't get enough of that pussy."

Ted hits the gas pedal, though, and that's when Rudy and I get scared. "You can't be serious," Rudy pleads. "At least give me a minute to poke out my eyes."

"For once in my life I agree with them," Bill adds. "Private citizens shouldn't take the law into their own hands."

"Think about it," Ted says. "How would you like it if you exposed yourself to somebody and they just walked away?"

"I don't think I'd have a problem," I say.

"I expect applause," Rudy admits.

I know I've been hanging around with them too long when I decide Ted makes sense. The Mustang took off like a shot after the floor show, but since then it's been slowly creeping back. They want us to catch them. They want our confirmation that they've been naughty, or worse, that we liked what we saw. Is that such a crime? To hope strangers find you attractive?

Rudy and I abandon our objections. Rudy, in fact, leaps ahead to the acceptance part of the plot. "It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd warned us," he says. "It was just the shock of seeing it off-guard."

We're half a block away and closing fast. "We'll just pull up alongside," Ted says, "and act excited, okay?"

"I love seeing that funky stuff!" Rudy squeals.

"It's female genitalia," I say, "not Kool and the Gang." Still, I'm up for it. I put on the face I use when I open pressents from Grandma. I'm excited. I'm straight. I'm a guy who got to see beaver.

Bill is the only wet blanket. "Absolutely not," he declares. "That would just encourage them."

Ted doesn't listen. We pull over on their left and the girls look over hopefully. "High five me," Ted says through a particularly dopey grin, and I oblige. We punch the air as well. We might look a little bit geeky.

Rudy rolls his window down. "They're gay!" he hollers to the women. They just laugh.

I roll my window down. "He is too!" I yell.

"We don't care!" one yells. "Show us your dicks!"

"Not a chance!" Bill hollers belligerently as Rudy and I exchange a look. "We're responsible young men from good families. We're way too big for that."

Pressed up against the glass, I like to think we were.