What’s The Most Romantic Thing That’s Happened To You In A Car?

Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day! The day we commemorate St.Valentine, the patron saint of love and, um, epilepsy and beekeeping. But it’s usually celebrated as a holiday commemorating love, romanticism, and, of course, the achingly beautiful act of boning. So, with that in mind, this seems like a great time to take a moment and remember those love/lust/like-like-related car situations, and, even better, tell them to all of your fellow Autopians, here, in public! On the internet!

If I had to pick an example, I think I’d have to say it was this time, back when I lived in Los Angeles, that my now-wife and I were accosted by cops for, um, enjoying one another’s company in the back of my ’73 Beetle, getting that vinyl basket-weave seat texture embossed into as much skin as possible.

What I like about this incident is that at the time we lived together, in a house, a house with ample opportunities and locations for all manner of physical goings-on, and yet we decided to go at it in the back seat of a pretty tiny car.

We were close to the house, too! Right down the street! We’d been out that night, doing whatever we did, being young and beautiful and mostly broke in LA, and for whatever reason decided that we just didn’t want to drive the extra block or two to get back home before going at it.

It didn’t take long before the cops decided to test their ultra-bright flashlights by shining them into the car windows, forcing us to rapidly pull on clothes and catch small bits of skin in zippers. The cops looked us over and asked Sally if she wanted to be there, after looking me over and considering the improbability of it all.

I remember explaining to the cops that we lived just right there and would they just let us drive up the hill and to our house, and they eventually rolled their eyes and agreed, telling us to just go home next time. Sure, the whole thing was embarrassing, but also kind of sweet, I thought, that after all those years of being together, we could still make some really bad decisions.

Oh, I also once used my Volvo 1800S’ trunk key to get to the basement of the Petersen Museum before that was allowed, and that was one of my first dates with Sally, and it was incredible. You can read about that in that link there, to a story that is now, alarmingly, a dozen years old.

You must have some wonderful stories of love in, on, or around cars! And we want to hear all of your lovely, lurid, lascivious, languid, and lustful tales of Valentine’s-appropriate car happenings! Because we’re all sicko voyeurs! And, you know, everyone likes a good story. So, kiss and tell!

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