Not what you think about back seats

That's the thing I miss the most about travelling: having a back seat. Well, that and Taco Bell.

People don't appreciate back seats enough. And no, I don't mean that. For some reason, most people associate back seats with some kind of sexual activity. Yeah, right. Extremely uncomfortable, if you ask me; and in Marvin's case, utterly impossible.

What's good about back seats is that they do have plenty of room in them, at least as long as you don't have any hitch hikers. It's a closet/dumpster/office/refrigirator thing. We usually had a twelve-pack or three of coke in there, with a few lying cooling off in the cooler, and some Big bags of ruffles, the kind that you can't get in Iz, for some reason (Why not? Who wouldn't want a 3-pound bag, for the price of 1.7?). Our library of AAA books and maps was also tossed back there somewhere, along with Roadside America, a bunch of May's cheesy romance novels, and of course, Sports Illustrated. And, of course, a whole lot of junk.

When you finished your can of coke, toss it backwards. When you crossed the state line and you don't need your map anymore, toss it back. A piece of your car's machinery got torn off and left in your hand - toss it backwards. It just doesn't happen in everyday life: If you throw something behind you, somebody might get hurt and be pissed. That's what's so great about having a back seat. It's huge. And it tolerates everything.

All this used to have some psychological metaphor attached to it, but I forgot what it was exactly. It's probably still in the back seat somewhere below a whole pile of junk.