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Tuesday, August 16, 2005

A song, a Speedo, & a Sexy Tow truck Driver

Don't, don't you want me?
You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me
Smoosh your legs with mine, if you think you lost your mind?...

Oh dear – You know how when you hear a song and you can’t figure out the lyrics, your brain fills in the blanks with something that may not make sense? Well, that happened to me with this old ‘classic’ by Human League long ago, and those strange lyrics above have stuck with me forever – even though I now know the real words.

I once saw piece on MTV about this phenomenon. They interviewed one man, and instead of “Excuse me while I kiss the sky.” From Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Purple Haze’ as “Excuse me while I kiss this guy.”
I like that.

But what does this have to do with Speedo? Well, I am glad you asked ----

When I was a teenager, just able to drive, I purchased my first Speedo style swimsuits. I got them at a store called Caldor’s. Wal-Mart eventually drove them out of business, but it was a similar type of department store that we had in New England. Along with Speedos, they had an excellent underwear collection, but I believe this particular adventure involved the purchase of a swimsuit.

I would go there by myself. I was extremely self conscious and embarrassed by what I wanted to purchase – I was sure everyone would be aware I was getting turned on by the very fact I was buying something so sexy. I would pick out something that caught my attention, screw up my courage, go to the cashier with sweat building up on my forehead, pay, and then hop in the giant, ugly brown, Ford Grand Torino station wagon that was our family car, and make my way home with my titillating purchase. If I had learned at that point how to drive a stick, I would have taken the blue Ford Maverick that my father drove and maybe felt a little ‘cooler,’ but at that point I was stuck with the station wagon. Well, all went according to plan on that extremely hot and humid summer day, except I never drove home. The goddamn car wouldn’t start! It was always causing problems and this was the first time it decided to screw with me.

I called home. I had to tell them where I was. They called the service station that repeatedly took care of the clunker and a tow truck was on the way, but I was left holding a Speedo. ‘Oh, what’s in the bag?’ I was too mortified to answer the question. What was I to do? I didn’t have the courage to return it, I couldn’t hide it in the car and hope that it wouldn’t be found during repairs, and there was no way in hell I was going to just throw it out. I did the only thing possible – I stuffed it in my pants. Kinda nice actually.

Well the tow truck arrived. The driver was a muscular, sexy, handsome, young blond man. My pants were already bulging from the swimsuit stuffed inside –uhg! He couldn’t start the car either. He hooked it up to be towed. I wasn’t much for conversation – fortunately, the ride was short and the radio was on – and guess what song was playing? “Don’t, don’t you want me...

Every time I hear that song, not only do I get the lyrics wrong, but I think of riding in a tow truck with a sexy driver next to me and a Speedo stuffed into my pants.

(In the next few days I will post a picture of me wearing that Speedo. Yes, I still have it.)

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