The clich? of adolescents going to a secluded point to park and suck face (among other things) is something as ingrained in our culture as apple pie or suing a fast food chain for providing you with coffee that is actually hot. Teens' first taste of freedom often goes hand in hand with their ability to drive solo, so it seems obvious that they would choose the automobile as the scene for their maiden voyage of sexual exploration.
In the '50s this may have been as innocent as the captain of the football team making out with - and perhaps going under the sweater of - the head cheerleader. Unless, of course, we believe the movie "Pleasantville", which was based on about as much historical fact as Mentos commercials are based on probable solutions to everyday problems. Whether or not vehicular sex originated in the '50s, causing an outbreak of color that tainted the black and white simplicity of post-World War II America, it is safe to assume that by our generation these maiden voyages rarely stopped at the sweater.
While my first sexual experience did not take place in the back of a Dodge, I did spend the majority of my high school sexual career stopping at the top of a parking garage and hooking up in the back of my boyfriend's Ford Explorer. Okay, so this was only for six weeks at the end of my senior year, but I couldn't help it if I was a late bloomer! Nevertheless, by the time I had gotten to college the idea of hooking up in a car seemed ... well, juvenile. I no longer lived in my parents' house. The dorm rooms were open, our roommates were ready to be sexiled and a whole wealth of upperclassmen with apartments made the idea of backseat lovin' obsolete. Or so I thought.
The other day my friend confided to me that upon arriving home from a trip she greeted her boyfriend not only with the aptly named "road head", but that they had decided to take it a step further and pulled off to the side of the road to round the bases. I laughed at the thought of her mounting her boyfriend in the driver's seat while cars rushed past them, remembering my own fear of getting caught by any number of the passing headlights that crawled lazily through the parking garage. She continued the story to tell how they had finally had to grab a blanket from the trunk and finish on the ground by some nearby trees.
I would have been eager to chalk the experience up to uncontrollable libido or perhaps too many in-flight cocktails, but at the same time the thrill of outdoor (or even out of the bedroom) sex also seemed to be a key element. While it was true that she had been resigned to backseat encounters while attending high school, it is not something that one simply outgrows. College had afforded her new places and more freedom to get down and dirty, but there is just something about the confined space and the relative danger of a highway hookup that screamed anything but juvenile. This was not an act to reclaim the innocence of adolescence, or even to spice up a waning sex life. This was the genuine thrill of being able to act on carnal instinct anytime and anywhere it arose.
As college students you may know this all too well. Perhaps Public Safety caught you in the library bathroom, or your RA witnessed you and another in the middle of the spin cycle in the laundry room. In either case, whether your dorm was available or not, trying someplace new probably made the sex that much better. Many will claim it's the fear of getting caught that gets them excited, while others say they simply couldn't control themselves. It's probably a combination of the two.
Vehicular sex, or sex in any public place, no longer needs to be an act of rebellion. Instead, let it be an act of asserting your independence and expressing your freedom to enjoy whoever you are with, whenever you are with them. But if you don't drive, just make you give the cab driver a nice tip.
