It was early one spring when I found myself on a French highway between Normandy and Paris with my panties strung on a line across the back window of a silver sports car. French truck drivers, not unlike American truck drivers were quick to express their approval of my delicates flapping in the breeze as I zoomed back to Paris.
This would never have happened if I hadn’t decide liquor was more important than panties. You see I worked in Europe three weeks of every month. So naturally, I decided I could forego clothing to create luggage space for more wine and champagne.
This time my brilliance got the best of me. I found myself in the unfortunate position of being in a hotel in rural France without clean panties.
Never fear, I thought, a quick wash in the sink and they’ll be dry and ready for the flight back to the U.S. in the morning.
However, come morning my “delicates” were still wet. Not to be outwitted by panties, I grabbed a string from the hotel owner and strung it across the back window of the sports car I had rented. I set off for Paris, my windows down and my line of undies flapping behind me. Admiring truck drivers honked at me all the way back to Paris.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t calculated air speed and drag, not being of the mathematically minded. As I pulled into the car rental lot to the shocked horror of the Parisian employees, one end of the string had pulled loose and the whole string was waving like a kite high above the back of that sports car shining in the morning sun.
They found me ripping my underwear out of the back window and shoving it into my suitcase just in time to catch my flight. They didn’t even had the decency to look haughty.
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