Sex in a Smart car

The other day Castanet News ran a item with the headline ‘Smart cars, amorous drivers’. 

My car, as it happens, is Smart as all get out.

Far too excited by the headline to waste time reading the story, I rushed off to see the world afresh, with the new understanding that I was, in fact, driving a Wheels-O-Unbridled Passion machine.

I already knew most of the cool features of my Smart car, but this new decadent steamy sex-while-driving feature had never crossed my mind. 

This was a game-changer.

However. . . .

 

Game Changer Glitch 1: Colour

My car’s current Gun Metal Grey hardly qualifies as a sexy colour. To maximize the thrills of this sinful new adventure, a colour change would be needed. 

Luckily with Smart cars, you can easily swap out all the exterior panels for panels of another colour. It’s Lego on wheels. If you’re rich, you could go with different colours every week of the month. 

Then again, if you’re rich you’re probably driving a whacking big Cadillac Escalade, and have an entire different car for each week of the month. each one with a whole lot more room for erotic diversions than the Smart car.

Sucks to be you, though, because I’ll bet nothing was mentioned in the article about amorous adventures in behemoth cars. 

Back to the issue of colour. I’m thinking maybe Come-Hither Siren Red. 

Or maybe just a depraved shade of False and Unkind Black, as in the Eurythmics Love is a Stranger. 

Game Changer Glitch 2: Size counts 

Love may be a stranger in an open car, but in a Smart car it’s going to be pretty squished, so all else aside, there is the bigger job of figuring out ways to manage steamy sex in a car the size of a tin can.

You could open both windows wide, I guess, for more room. If nothing else, the Smart offers a way to practice a few Kama Sutra positions, but really, it seems a stretch.

After careful measuring and system analysis using CAD, I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way to do it is to drive the Smart car inside a Cadillac Escalade and take it from there. There’s just no other way.

 

Game Changer Glitch 3: Sex appeal

To test the apparent raunchy magnetism of the Smart car, I pictured myself looking like Annie Lennox then drove around town and leered lasciviously at people. 

The results were mixed.

“My god, are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?”

“Oh what fresh hell is this? Go away, my god please, just . . . go away.”

"Oh come on. You can’t go around leering lasciviously at people when you’re driving that thing.”

“Are you stalking me? Because I’m calling the police now. See me dialling?”

“Sure, I’m game. I charge $200 hour, but you’re gonna have to pay me up front.”

 

Tangent: A Rover 2000 TC is a lot of things. Sexy is not one of them

As it happens, I’ve been the happy owner of some pretty great cars over the years, and most were plenty big enough to be useful for amorous adventures, although none qualified as Smart enough. A favourite was the 1969 Rover 2000 TC, the poor man’s Rolls Royce that looked kinda like the love-is-a-stranger Rolls in the video.

That Rover was a magnificent car, bought for practically free because the owner of the New Mexico car lot, where the car sat dusty and rejected for years, hated the very sight of what he called “that weird British piece of crap”. 

It wasn't crap. It was elegant and quaint, a bit stodgy, very comfortable, and yes, a bit weird, especially in matters electronic. About the only thing you wouldn’t call it was sexy. It did, however, have an ice alert warning system that would flash excitedly when temperatures reached over 90F (30C-ish). That should count for something; it got excited when hot, what isn’t sexy about that?

 

Conclusion: Betrayal by Castanet News

I trusted you, Castanet News, and believed that my life was on the brink of becoming exponentially more interesting. As it stands, my Smart car remains exactly as it has been all along: A grey fuel-disdaining rolling tin can with about as much sex appeal as a door knob.  Mind you, that could change once the black and white panels arrive, along with the uniform and handcuffs.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.