Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Junk in My Trunk

     So I was sitting in the trunk the other day thinking about riding around in the trunk.  Okay, that sounds a little bit strange.  Let me go ahead and try again.  The trunk was open and I was sitting in it with my legs dangling out waiting for my Baby Doll to show up with her bike.  And while I was waiting and sitting on the edge of my trunk, I got to thinking about trunks.  I had a sort of automobile trunk train of thought.  First I wondered if I could fit in my trunk.  I am a pretty big guy and I was seriously wondering about whether or not I could fit in the trunk of my car.  But then again, I have a pretty good trunk.  The final decision is that I probably could, but I don't think I would be comfortable.
This is a picture of a trunk exactly like mine.  Big, isn't it?
     Then I got to thinking about Dexter, the guy who is the main character in the show Dexter.  Funny coincidence, isn't it?  I got to thinking about him because just the other day I saw him get thrown into the trunk of a Cadillac - which was also a large automobile trunk - and he had all sorts of room to flail around and get his hands untied and the whole nine yards.  He was in there doing all sorts of flippy-dos while they drove him around; all stuff that I wouldn't have been able to do had my life depended on it, and if I were tied up in a trunk I assume that my life would have depended upon it.  But the point here is that Dexter is a pretty average built guy, and he seemed to be fitting comfortably, for whatever that is worth.
This guy is down to party.
     Then like a flash I was on to high school, thinking about the times that we put someone in the trunk of a car and drove them around.  We weren't always the brightest back in those days, and we did some dumbass shit.  One of those things was riding around in trunks.  Whenever we had more people than seat space, we would always throw someone in the trunk if we were just cruising across the neighborhood.  And the thing about it was that everyone was always quick to volunteer.  Like it was something special; a rare treat.  And I suppose that it was.  I mean, how often goes one get to ride in the trunk of the car?  Not often.  I was just something that most people never got a chance or never had the guts to do.  And we did it.  Or at least some of us did.
      So I was sitting on the rim of my open car trunk and all that went through my mind.  That is what I thought of.  A car went by or person came out of the restaurant whose parking lot I was parked in, or something happened that snapped me back to life.  But for a little bit I was seeing it all in front of my eyes so vividly.  It was great.  There was a lot of junk in my trunk, except that it was all in my mind. 

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