is this the more adult, less scandalous version of the backseat of the car?
either way, it's one of my favorite places to be.
smashed to the edge of the seat among old boxes of pipe fittings, wrenches and nails. the smell of rust. of robert's blue collar made real.
and it's not steamy, or hot. and chick-fil-a at noon, with moms and children and men on their lunch break swarming around us, is not quite makeout mountain.
but the sunshine was beating down on the dashboard and robert's arm was around me and i had a gut full of combo #1. and i declare, it was quite romantic in its own little way.