My evening commute was always a mess, so she suggested I try something new. Anything, really, so we could avoid the usual hassles. And wouldn’t you know, we sailed through, lanes clear, and pushed the speedometer higher. She put on her shades and then turned on the radio — a new station but not my kind of music – outlaw country, Waylon, that kind of thing. Then she reached over, unzipped my fly, and, well, you know the rest. That is, until a cop pulled us over. I lost it, and you can understand why: he insisted I was traveling alone.