wolfpuppy

This post is only relevant if you were in a ford.

"trainfan1" <lmsearing@usdatanet.net> wrote in message
news:nsednZ04CJg9tGzeRVn-vQ@usadatanet.net...
> GOING ALL THE WAY
>
> I remember the day I became a man.
>
> I thought my head was going to explode. As the pleasure swept over my body
> and I started to lose control I knew this was what I had been put on earth
> to do.
>
> I could feel my toes curl, pressing downward automatically, as I held on
> tighter and the two of us bucked and bounced, plowing almost, deeper with
> each thrust, so loud I'm sure the neighbors heard, but so engrossing I
> didn't care.
>
> It's different with different cultures.
>
> In primitive societies, I think they have to kill a lion. For ancient
> Native Americans, they often had to do vision quests, or cut off some
> guy's hair, or castrate a buffalo on the run.
>
> For others, it is the mastering of long poems or sacred texts or the
> completion of difficult pilgrimages.
>
> But I'm an American and we define our manhood in a more earthy context.
>
> Either you've done it or you haven't.
>
> And I remember the first time I did it.
>
> It was up on top of a hill, down in the Southern Tier, where the
> Appalachians string off as far as you can see and there is neither
> pavement nor electricity.
>
> It was about 2 in the afternoon.
>
> The leaves had turned and the hillsides were as beautiful as the event,
> and it seemed right that something so natural should take place in nature,
> in an old hay field, where the fertility of the soil called out to my own.
>
> And she was beautiful.
>
> All in red, so smooth and sleek, with the biggest headlights I'd ever
> seen. A good front end and a solid backside and kind of a purr that turned
> to a roar.
>
> And I did it with her.
>
> I became a man.
>
> I goosed her a bit, I put it in, I felt her respond and I held on tight.
>
> It was my first time.
>
> And it was so vigorous that it took my breath away and I felt a little
> dazed, carried away in it all.
>
> "This is awesome," I said to my son, in the next seat over, watching
> closely every move I made.
>
> He became a man later the same day.
>
> In the same truck.
>
> That's how it is with four-wheel drive. It changes your life. It
> transforms you.
>
> It makes you a man.
>
> One minute you're in two-wheel high. Like a woman. Driving along,
> incomplete.
>
> Then the road ends. But your wanderlust doesn't. So you stop on the edge
> and breath deep and push the "four-wheel low" button and feel the gears
> kick in.
>
> It's about to happen.
>
> The forbidden fruit is about to be yours.
>
> She jerks as you give her the gas, and rolls off unstoppable across the
> countryside, out where the deer walk and the tractors toil.
>
> Around things at first, tentatively, then bolder and more aggressive,
> going over them soon, weeds and ant hills and anything else foolish enough
> to get in the way of man and machine.
>
> Through mud and up hills and between trees and any damn place you please.
>
> "We're in four-wheel drive now," you nonchalantly tell the person beside
> you, as he holds on, desperately trying not to knock his head against the
> window or doorframe as you bounce and bob over nature's contours.
>
> I remember the day I became a man.
>
> And I remember yesterday, when my 12-year-old daughter took her first turn
> behind the wheel. Peering up over the hood in four-wheel low.
>
> Five-miles-an-hour across an old alfalfa field under a gray autumn sky,
> laughing hysterically at the fun of it, trying to remember which pedal was
> the brake and which was the gas.
>
> Thanks goodness her mom doesn't read this column.
>
> - by Bob Lonsberry © 2006
>
>
>
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