Michael D. Davis

As a fat man, I, of course, love to eat, but there is one place I like to eat in particular. The car.

Yeah, I know what you’re saying. The car? But it’s true and it has been forever. Now, I am not talking about eating and driving, mind you. I am talking about riding in a car, watching the scenery, playing some good tunes, and having a burger. I don’t know why this is a favorite to me, but it is.

Going along with eating in the car are the car foods. You see, not every food is good to eat in a car. No one ever drove down the highway eating mashed potatoes. Fries are golden for the car. Nothing better than just dipping your hand into the McDonald’s bag and pluckin’ out a few steamy salted fries to chow down on while you’re drivin’ past a cow or a cornfield.

Years and years ago, when my sister first got her license, the family went on a little day trip out of town. The last thing we did before heading home was hit up the Mickey D’s, as per usual with our trips. Now, my sister’s driving, my dad is in the passenger seat, teaching, I guess you’d call it, while me and ma are in the back seat munchin’ fries. I was about 10 at the time, and I was having a good day. When we started to pull up to our house, we noticed a cop parked outside and a police officer standing on the berm.

This is Tama-Toledo, if you don’t know everyone, you at least know their cousin, so we knew the officer on our berm. We got out and said hey what’s up? Well, what was up was, while we were on the highway someone called in our plates. They said adults were letting an underage kid smoke in the backseat. That would be me. In actuality, they saw me eatin’ some french fries, thought I was smokin’ a doobie, and called us into the fuzz.

Since that day, I’ve never smoked a french fry again.

And, speaking of eating in the car, my sister believes she’s a master at it, but in actuality she’s just nuts. Back again when she first got her license, she took me to get ice cream at the Dairy Queen. She ordered a sundae. She proceeded to drive with her knees and eat her ice cream. I let my ice cream melt as I screamed all the way home. Now, if you think that is bad, let me tell you it gets worse. The woman is like Evel Knievel with the road and food. I have seen her stop at a Chinese restaurant to get takeout, then drive away while eating with the chopsticks. It would be one thing if she was driving and stabbed an eggroll with a fork, that would be bad enough, but she used the chopsticks!

My last story or example or whatever, comes from just last week. The day before Thanksgiving. Everyone was home, so my sister and I went out to run a couple errands and then get lunch. I drove. Everyone decided on Hardees. She wanted something different.

We stopped at the Kwik Star, and she got herself a bowl of soup. And if you can’t see where this one’s going, then I don’t know what to tell ya. We were driving along, and she pops the top, gets out a spoon, and starts slurping away. This wasn’t your soup-on-the-go type of cup either. This was a bowl of soup. As I voiced my thoughts about her eating soup in a moving car, my sister slurped away, confused as to why I was flabbergasted. I took a picture of her eating the soup in the car and have since threatened to publish it along with this article. But I didn’t. Which is too bad because who in their right mind is gonna believe the fact that she ate a bowl of soup in a moving car, well, unless you know her.