I blame advertising. They keep trying to convince us that cars have something to do with sex. Hear me America: CARS HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH SEX. MOTELS, MOTELS HAVE TO DO WITH SEX.
Speaking of seat backs, when I run into something there’s all sorts of protection, airbags and seat belts. However, if I am so stupid as to be in someone else’s way and they slam up my rear: well I shouldn't have been there, should I, and just to make sure I understand that, my reclining seat back is going to break and not only won’t I ever be able to walk again but I’ll never have to worry about sex either.
If you don’t believe me, next time you’re in a dealership examining one of these overpriced, digital, plastic, interest bearing, depreciating assets, instead of kicking the tires or slamming the doors, try putting one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the seat back, throw your shoulders into the Sampson routine and watch that sick puppy snap right off.
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