Dirty Talk Featured Image

Driving while under the influence of no pants

I’m a fan of naked driving. Back in high school and college, on a nice spring day or night, I’d get in my car, strip down, and drive. Windows down, sunroof open, music blaring. There’s nothing more exhilarating.

One beautiful day, I decided to go to the beach. In Daytona Beach, where I grew up, you can drive and park on the beach. I pull up to the booth before the entrance and pay the fee to drive – it was like $6.00 or something. I turn onto the hard-packed sand and start heading south, driving very slowly. The speed limit is 10 mph. With people laying on the beach to your right and coming from the row of hotels, and running to the ocean on the left, you have to go slow and be very careful that you don’t squash a tourist. Daytona frowns upon that.

So, I’m going very, very slowly, almost idling, down the beach, as I start to disrobe. I pass the esteemed beach police in their sand buggy, going the opposite way. The officer stares at me intently, and I feel guilty even though he looks ridiculous in his shorts, sandals, and gunbelt. I shrug off the guilt and start getting nekkid. The shirt comes off first, very easily. We’re at the beach, nobody has a shirt on. Nobody will notice. I’m already barefoot, so that part’s not a problem. I unbuckle my belt, and start to slide my shorts down, off my ass, onto the floor. In order to get the leverage to do this, I have to raise my butt off of the seat, putting all of my weight onto my feet, while I take my shorts off. I also push one hand against the steering wheel to steady myself. The resulting blare of the horn simultaneously invites every man, woman and child within a 100-foot radius to look at my car while scaring the ever-loving shit out of me, causing me to jump up, which then elevates my entire crotch level with the window. A mother in her late 30s stares, her mouth hanging open while her hands scrabble to cover the eyes of her young children. Three teen girls to my immediate left point in horror. The eyes of the guy carrying his surfboard bug out to three times their size. Time slows to a crawl.

I recover quickly and drive off well in excess of the speed limit. I decide, at this point, that maybe naked driving on a crowded beach was not the smartest idea I’d ever had. I can see in my rear-view mirror that the police buggy has done a U-turn and is leisurely coming my direction. I drive faster, searching for a stretch of sand that is unpopulated.

Finally, I hit paydirt. There are no cars and no people on the right side of the beach, right where it butts against the black reflectlive back wall of the Daytona Beach Hilton. I park the car parallel to the wall and climb out through the passenger side. Standing in the hot sun bare-ass naked, I bounce back and forth a bit as my feet get used to the hot sand. I turn around and reach back into the car and pull out my clothes. The excitement of the whole situation may have given me some minor wood. I adjust myself for a minute, look at my reflection in the mirror-like black rear wall of the hotel while I adjust myself, and then quickly pull my clothes on.

Now, legally and safely clothed, I look up to see that the beach cops are still coming my way. Rather than even try to face them, I decide to go hide in the Hilton. I lock the car, and walk up to the back door of the hotel, which is propped open. I walk in.

The transition from the bright sun to the darkened interior makes me see spots for about 10 seconds. I close my eyes, and when I re-open them, I see what looks to be a wedding reception in full-swing. The bride, the groom, the parents, the musicians, the guests, the waiters – they’re all staring at me intently. I flush, about to apologize and quickly excuse myself from the room when I happen to turn around.

And behind me, I can see, sharp as day, every detail of the passenger side of my car through the darkly tinted windows that cover the rear of the hotel like a black, shiny wall.

Don’t forget! Go check out Postcard Hell and buy some postcards to send to your friends, enemies, and pastor!

Postcard Hell

57 thoughts on “Driving while under the influence of no pants”

  1. See, now I think that would be just as funny as the pic with you and Hitler. I mean right up at the top of your blog, a picture of you, the bride and groom. You would, of course, have to be nekkid in the picture.

  2. Luckily you didn’t press your ass against the window… otherwise the police could have taken butt-prints and nailed your ass.

    Or put you in lock-up and let somebody else do it.

  3. RW, you really know how to tie up all the loose ends of a story, don’t you?

    ADW, I wonder if I can track them down and see if they’ll pose for it?

    Angel, it’s harder for women to get away with it, with the boobs and all.

    Wayne, it’s about 99% true.

    BPR, that’s not true at all. I’ve gotten away with being charged because cops have no interest in chasing a hairy naked gorilla. It is definitely true.

    Dave, my ass was smarter than that.

    Bethie, I’ve done a lot of stupid things – what can I say?

    Sheila, yeah, it was horrifying!

    Mr. Fabulous, with yourself, right?

  4. Phishez, true. That bride will forever have that image to remember on her wedding day.

    Turnbaby, perfectly innocuously, I swear!

    Metalmom, as the nudist or the observer?

    Nude Brittch, it’s not an obsession. Now show me your boobs!

    ADW, no problemo. Thanks for being an awesome pimp.

  5. Mistress Yoda, what do they act as wind resistance to keep you from speeding?

    Poppy, am not!

    Lynda, exactly!

    Bossy, I wasn’t aware that was possible.

    Mist, you tell me like I don’t already know this!

    Amy, that was when I was young and needed the money humiliation.

    Dawn, I can imagine. That sounds painful.

    FlorBrittian, maybe after I can sit Devin down and have a long talk about pussies.

    Fogspinner, or their Uncle Jack Mehoff?

  6. Omigod, what a horror story, Adam!! At the beginning of the story I was thinking, “What a great idea! Naked driving! What a great way to get rid of some of my tan lines.” By the end, I began to see why I opted for clothing : )

  7. Genius, that’s what you are. Wedding receptions – the most photographed events ever… Somewhere out there will be video and photos of your nekkid ass… next to a nicely arranged flower bouquet and three tier fruit cake.

  8. Cat, can you get tan lines?

    Dr. Britth Westheimer, oh, good! I still don’t know where the clitoris is.

    AnnieB, well, I did present them with a standing ovation.

    Mistress Yoda, heh.

    Ajooja, I’m sure. I can’t go to nude beaches after the Boner Incident of 1994.

    Bec, somehow, I never thought about the fact that there might be photographic evidence of me in my full monty glory. Thanks.

    Poppy, that’s perfectly wholesome.

    DB, can you handle a stick?

  9. I used to drive naked all the time. My best run was from Dallas, TX to Abilene, TX. I was night time but it kept me awake and very cool. I once convinced an entire car load of people to drive/ride naked with me. Quite the accomplishment. :batting:

  10. Hehehehehehehe.

    Yes, in the butt. And I’m sure Amy will be very happy with me that I confirmed your clitoris suspicions.

    You can still go get your own damn milk. You have the car once in a while, right?? And people to boss around!

Leave a Reply