Driving my Penis

I was talking to Rich the other day, saying how I was feeling a bit sad at the idea of selling my car.

You see, like all good Texans, I have never been without a car from the moment I got my drivers license at age 16. My car is an extension of myself, a suggestion of who I am and the way I want to be seen. It's a part of me, like an arm. It's also damned useful, and, more importantly, really fun to drive. Sometimes it's my release; to just drive, anywhere, is to feel free and unencumbered, I can crank the music and fly wherever I want. But, since moving to Norway, my beloved little Subaru is becoming more of a luxury than a necessity. So the decision has been made to sell it, to help with the expenses of the posh new pad.

But, though I know it's the right decision, I can't help but have some pangs about it. I mean, no car means I must rely on (gasp!) public transportation! Raise your hand if you are from Texas and have used public transportation for anything more than a class trip or a trip to the airport. Yeah, see? No hands.

So I was trying to express these feeling to Rich, of loss of freedom and possibilities unexplored.

He just looked at me and said "So? I've never owned my own car." (Which is true, but he was always provided a company car, so it's not like he never had one.)

"And", he continued, "it's not like you use it all the time. It just sits in the garage. And you could rent one if you needed one."

I just kind of looked at him and said "Yeah, maybe. Still....you don't use your penis all the time, but you would miss it wouldn't you? Even though it just sits in your shorts? It's nice to know it's there, waiting for you when you need it. And rental penises are just not the same as having your own, are they?"

I think he got the point. So, when I sell my penis, I know I can rent another one, but damn I will miss having my own.