It was an intensely hot day in July of ’02 when I ventured to the local camping park to meet with my friends. I didn’t bring anything to drink, and since my little Hyundai Accent was without air conditioning or roll down windows (the windows worked once, but that option did not last long on this little tin can of a car) and by the time I reached the park, I was parched.
There was nobody around, and I spotted a 2 liter bottle of Diet Pepsi sitting innocently on the camp table next to my buddy’s tent. Closer inspection showed that the bottle was not yet opened, but very hot. I was so thirsty, I opened the bottle and took a long drink. Warm Pepsi on a hot day is not a great idea, but without anything else around, I had to drink something, and what harm could it actually do anyway?
I found out the answer to this question some two miles from the park. My stomach felt like someone kicked the guts out of me, so I pulled over and went to the trunk to get a roll of toilet paper. Damn, I cleaned out the car on Friday, and I must have forgot to replenish my emergency supply of TP. Oh well, I really didn’t like the T-shirt I was wearing anyway.
I discovered the link between hot Pepsi and Diarrhea, and my poor T-Shirt was no more. I was fortunate that the ditch had a few long leafy trees, which provided great cover and an even better outhouse for my desperate situation.
With great relief (and no shirt), I climbed back into my little sauna of a car, and I headed home. I was doing pretty good when the next cramp hit me. Again, I pulled over on the highway, this time on a fairly small shoulder of the road, and in a desperate situation, ran to crouch behind a few alder bushes. This time I sacrificed the shorts I had been wearing. They were of the Boxer variety, and despite being fairly comfortable, they were not the best replacement for toilet tissue. I glanced around and when the traffic disappeared, I made a vigorous run for the car…wearing only my underwear and socks.
By now, I was in a desperate hurry to get home. I maneuvered the little Hyundai through any cars or trucks that were ahead of me, and figured that I would be okay when a cramp so painful that it almost caused me to lose control of the car hit me, I had no choice but to pull over one more time. This time, the shoulders of the road were bare, and there wasn’t even so much as a bush on either side of the road. Since the pain was just unbearable, I had no choice but to crouch down on the side of the road and deal with it. Wouldn’t you know it, the biggest line of traffic I had ever witnessed (all the cars I had passed earlier) drove right past me. There I was, sitting in the ditch, dressed in only a pair of briefs (which were pulled all the way down to my ankles) and black socks, red in the face from a combination of pain and embarrassment, and a decision to what the next piece of clothing I would discard in the ditch would be. It was the underwear and socks.
I found an old garbage bag blowing next to me, and used this to line my seat. I sat on the bag, started the little car, and took off down the highway. I was about five miles from home, cruising at 140 or so Km/h, with a big smile on my face. Another pain hit me, but I decided to push the car even more and attempt to make it all the way home, to my own toilet, where toilet paper was in abundance, and so was my clothes closet. I was in such pain that my finger prints were permanently imbedded in the steering wheel, but I was laughing loudly because at this rate, nothing in the world would be as bad as the pain and embarrassment I suffered today. Nothing except for the next thing to happen to me. I was cruising at speeds not yet heard of in a Hyundai Accent when I noticed a red and blue flashing light behind me. A COP. At first I thought about continuing on my way home, but the thought of being arrested and stuck in a jail cell naked was not what I had planned for the evening, so I pulled over.
The cop, rather surprised at my lack of attire, asked me to step out of the car. What a joker, thinking I was going to get out of the car naked. I pleaded with him that I really needed to use the bathroom, and if he didn’t let me go, I would go right in front of him, on the garbage bag under me. A combination of pity, heat and the smell must have clouded his judgement, as he told me to head for home, but to cut my speed to that of the speed limit. Without hesitation, I took off, tires squealing and dirt flying from my tires.
I made it home, did what I needed to do, and filled the entire trunk area of the little car with toilet paper. Every vehicle I have owned from that moment on always has a good supply of toilet paper. Lesson learned!