Last week we asked our readers for their experiences with sex and cars. Aside from some obvious lies (nobody has room to have an orgy in a Miata!), we got some, uh, interesting stories. Be warned: dragoning is involved.
10.) Slaab On My Knaab
Reader Vin explains that road head isn’t exactly safe sex.
1999 Saab 9-3 convertible (this was literally the most dangerous thing I’ve done while driving - which includes snow-driving and trying to drive in a rainstorm with the top down).
Suggested By: Vin
9.) Buyer Beware
Had sex with this girl in her white ‘88 Honda Prelude.
Friend buys similar-looking Prelude years later.
I tell him story about back seat adventure and a particular “stain.”
He says, “wait, was her name XXX?”
I say “yeah!”
He angrily sells car the following week.
Suggested By: Mouse Gets The Cheese
8.) Not That Kind Of Bear
Quite a few years ago I went up to New Hampshire with my girl friend at the time visit her best friend. It was late fall and our plan was to spend the weekend staying at the friend’s house in the guest bedroom. The trip started off bad. I got out of work late, traffic was a mess, and we hit a bad storm and lots of fog. We get up there well after midnight only to discover that the friend’s extended family decided to come by unannounced for a visit and they had already claimed all the beds. My girlfriend and I ended up sleeping on an air mattress on the living room floor, with the girls uncle sleeping on the couch and snoring loudly.
The second night we were there, still on the air mattress, uncle still snoring loudly on the couch, when she starts getting frisky with me. I suggest this probably isn’t the best place for this, maybe we should try the car. So we sneak out quietly and hop into the back seat of my WRX and get busy. We’d been going at it maybe 10 minutes or so and suddenly she stops moving and gets real quiet... “Babe, is everything ok?”
“SHHHHHHH!!!” she hisses in my ear.
“What, what’s wrong?”
“Shut up... turn around very, very slowly...” she whispers again, her voice now trembling.
I do as she instructs and I see something in the darkness, a shape, moving around near the garbage cans next to the friends house, right by the door we just came out of. I squint my eyes to try and figure out what it is. “That’s not a person, is it?” I quietly ask, thinking one of the relatives snuck out for a smoke.
“I think it’s a bea...” she started to say when it turned to face us. Yup. It was a big ol’ black bear. We are both sitting there frozen, eyes fixed on the bear. The bear appeared to be oblivious at first, then it began to sniff, nostrils flaring, nose moving back and forth until it’s pointed in the direction of the car. He stares right at us and starts to take a step forward.
Damn! Can he smell us? Can he see us? Another step. Shit, what the hell am I supposed to do now? Fuck! What if he wants to eat us? Worse, what if he wants to join us??? Oh god no. Another step closer.
I don’t think we were there long, maybe 2 minutes at the most, but it felt like an eternity, staring this bear down in the middle of the night, from the back of a WRX, mid coitus. Suddenly, the bear turned and sauntered off into the woods. We waited for a few minutes, looking around the dark, hoping the bear didn’t double back on us before we decided to call it quits and sneak back into the house.
Suggested By: Snuze: Because The Slobalt Wasn’t Slow Enough
7.) Always Get The Insurance
This one is more than a little long, so here’s an excerpt. To set it up, let me just say that our intrepid driver was in a rental Chevy Cruze, just found a secluded spot in the farmland of rural Quebec.
[MIND BLOWING COITUS OCCURS]
I roll over on to my back, exhausted and look around, the windows are completely steamed up and I wanted some fresh air. I put some basics back on and step out into the crisp night and start to stretch. I hear my partner moan and the car shake. She’s a 5 ft 2 girl that weighs maybe 100 lbs - she can’t shake a Cruze?
Meh, making nothing of it I walk up to the front to grab a can of coke and some snacks and noticed a shadow on the hood. Well, it was not quite a shadow but a cow. Yes a FVKING COW was sitting on my hood leaned up against the tree. During coitus at some point a cow plonked itself on the hood and we didn’t notice.
Panicking my partner, scrambled to the front and tried to start the car and take off. Wonderful, she locked me out (still don’t know why I kept dating her) and fortunately for me she failed her driving test. She didn’t know how to drive so it went no where.
I convinced her to open the door and moved her to the back seat. Not knowing what to do, I tried yelling at the cow, talking to it and offering it cold hard cash. I was turned down, so I poked it for a while and then slapped it (sorry pita)from an angle. It finally moved, though clearly disgruntled.
I turned the car back on to assess the damage. The hood wasn’t coming up but everything sounded fine, the grill was crushed but lights were okay and functioning. Since it was a rental, and I had insurance I didn’t care. I grabbed a couple floor mats and used them to get out of the mud and carefully treaded back to the highway.
I drove another 700 odd miles with the car beaten to death and returned to the city with the Cruze looking like a drag car. The front was dented in and down, the suspension was definitely riding low (rubbing on bumps) and the white was primarily mud.
Upon arriving at the rental counter I had the forms already filled out for filing a claim and walked out with everyone’s jaws on the floor. The first renter of a car, puts nearly 2k Miles on it, destroys the front end with something clearly crushing it, smelling like coitus (this car was used often that weekend) and covered in mud.
Ever since that incident that branch has always been giving me full size trucks and SUVs for free...
Suggested By: Moves-Like-Senna
6.) Condoms Prevent Minivans
I had sex 2 times over the course of 5 years and the results now dictate my car decisions for the next 20 years. How fucked up is that?
This sounds familiar, Ash.
Suggested By: Ash78
5.) That’s Not What The Armrest Is For
Or is it?
In my mid 20’s I was hooking up with a petite single mother in her early 30’s (MILF). One time we had sex in my Honda Accord. She was sitting spread at an angle on the center arm rest/storage and I was kneeling on the driver’s seat. Those who have an Accord know the arm rest on the center console slides forward and back to allow short drivers who sit with the seat forward to use the arm rest. Well we were going at it pretty good and I started sliding her back and forth using the arm rest, sex swing style.
I’d like to embellish by saying the arm rest broke and I had a funny time explaining it at the Honda dealer, but it didn’t, in fact it held up very well and proved to add to what was an equally fulfilling experience. Instead I’ll just give a shoutout to the Japanese engineers who in trying to create an ergonomic cabin inadvertently created an excellent piece of sex furniture.
Suggested By: damnthisburnershitsux
4.) A 77 Fiat X/19 And The Emergency Room
When you are young and full of yourself you will try it anywhere and anytime given the chance.
Early 90’s and I was probably 20 at the time and had been trying to get with this one girl for months and when we finally manage to hook up at a house party she wants to go for a ride in my Fiat.
So after lots of giggles on her part and me trying to be the bad ass driving the Italian sports car.
We finally decide it’s time to find a place to park and things proceed to get hot and heavy between us.
Usually this would be the time to move things to the sloped nose of the Fiat. But she is worried someone might come up so instead I get the bright idea that we can manage it in the Tiny Fiat.
I start to pop the Targa panel off for head room but decide I could just I lower the hand brake and straddle the tunnel and slide a little forward so she could then straddle me.
As I begin to do this I feel an excruciating pain in my thigh. I look down to see blood everywhere and she starts screaming!
As I had started to slide forward I had ripped the Gator off the Hand Brake Handle exposing the front edge of the stamped steel and the mounting bolt thread and yes it was sharp. I managed to slice my thigh wide open.
Blood now covering my leg and the carpet I realize I may need the emergency room! She’s still screaming and panicking I calm her down and try laughing it off as no big deal and drive her back to the Party telling her I was just going to run home and change pants.
Ended up at the emergency room. Desk Nurse: and how did this happen? Me: uhm trying to have sex in a Fiat? Her stifling a laugh has me fill out the paper work. While I was doing this she had promptly spread the news. So every orderly, Nurse or Doctor that walked by grinned or gave me a knowing look.
12 Stitches later and a ruined leather driver’s seat and carpet I never managed to hooked up with the girl again after that.
Suggested By: KPKING
3.) Make Sure The Shifter Is Screwed Down
Yep, another ER story here.
In the garage after a date night last Christmas. My mom inside watching Downtown Abbey after putting the kids down. #marriedlife
In high school there was a girl (friend of mine actually) who became known as 5-speed after she decided to “do some stuff” with the shifter in her boyfriend’s Jeep. The shift knob came off. Yes. All up in there. Ended up at the ER. In a smallish town, no WAY everyone didn’t know all about it Monday morning.
Suggested By: Chairman Kaga
2.) Dragoning Doesn’t Work That Way
You’ve made it this far in this top ten. Prepare yourself for a whole lot of WTF.
This goes back a number of years back when you still have Chevy Celebrities plying the roads, namely because this involved my ancient 88 Celebrity (sadly it wasn’t the Eurosport, as if that made a difference). I was just starting out, I needed a car and I couldn’t afford anything better than crap, so crap is what I drove. It squeaked, it rattled, and the exhaust brackets were thoroughly rotted and rusted. You might think the first two are plot points, but not. That last part about the rotted exhaust brackets is, and it’s what makes things interesting.
A few nights before there was a rash of some punk slashing tires at my apartment complex, so my poor Celebrity was up on the jackstand looking like some ugly Chihuahua struggling to take a piss with the exhaust hanging down like its pathetic pecker. Thank god it was the weekend at least, but I was pissed that I had to spend it slapping the donut on. My then-girlfriend wanted to help in her own little way, so she came over with some weed. Some of you can already guess that “girlfriend” and “weed” usually mix in crazy shit ways.
Long story short, after trying to get some very rusted-on lugnuts off we took a break sitting on the curb smoking the weed. Sitting around bored and high turned into light play, and then my girlfriend started to get a crazy idea.
I guess that broken exhaust started to look like a pecker to her too because she turned to me and said “I’m going to give your car a blow job.” That was too long ago, and I was too high to remember what my expression was, but I imagine I was both too shocked and too stoned to either ask her what the fuck was going on in her mind or take her seriously. Holy shit was she ever serious though. Yes, she seriously got behind the car and put the exhaust tip into her mouth. No stroking, no back or fourth, she just stuck a rusted metal pipe into her mouth. A pretty big metal pipe too and I don’t think she realized until she did it.
I was pretty certain that was the end of it and that she learned her lesson from sticking a pipe that’s been in close proximity to road debris and never cleaned into her mouth. But nope! At this point you’re probably already guessing where this is going to.
Yes, she pulled down her shorts, her panties, and in the most awkward display that I’ve ever seen she proceeded to try to literally fuck my car. And she succeeded, to a certain extent, in that automotive components were partially engulfed within the human female anatomy. Not deep, just enough that it happened. It wasn’t very sexy to watch at all, all mechanical (pun intended). Her face just looked like someone trying to figure out how to get this thing inside her, like someone trying to figure out how to put a square peg into a round hole, so to speak.
At a certain point I just started yelling at her because I was worried she’d knock the car off the jackstand and injure or kill herself. She decided at a certain point that it wasn’t going to go in anymore but now she was stuck in a position where it was awkward for her to crawl out, so I had to hold the exhaust while she tried to slide out. She ended up with dirt and shit everywhere because she was basically crawling underneath a car, and I dare not think what she actually did to you know what. We broke up a while later but we never really made a thing of what happened that night, except it was pretty much the last kind of sex she ever got around me.
Suggested By: MyRigIsHigherThanYours
1.) Put It In Park
And here is the most painfully embarrassing story of them all.
When I was about 20, my girlfriend at the time got access to her dad’s 1970 Bonneville convertible on an lovely summer night. So, we went to a good spot out in the country to watch the submarine races. After the events, we went to get going, and the car. would. not. start. I wasn’t a total fool about cars then, but I didn’t see any way to figure out what was wrong on the side of a secluded country road at midnight. So, we finally decide to walk to her place, about 3 miles away, in the dark. I might have been wearing flip-flops. So we wake up her dad (who was a cop, the kind of guy who left his gun on the counter as a warning to me) and he drives us back to our favorite sex location.
We get there and the first thing he does is put the Bonneville in park.
Suggested By: bourgeoismiddleman
Welcome back to Answers of the Day - our daily Jalopnik feature where we take the best ten responses from the previous day’s Question of the Day and shine it up to show off. It’s by you and for you, the Jalopnik readers. Enjoy!
Top Photo Credit: The Old And Dark Recesses Of The Internet, via Jalopnik from 2010
Contact the author at raphael@jalopnik.com.