I know you sick bastards are thinking about Freddie Mercury and his lisping anthem to fat bottomed girls. Which is kinda ironic when you think of it, eh?

Bottoms are what we folks down here in the South call that land down there outside of town near the river. That land where only hunters and farmers go. That's were we would play as young children of the corn. Well, cotton, in my case. But you know what I mean.

One of our favorite things to do was to take old Jeeps and run them out there when it was wet and see who could get stuck first. One backup Jeep would have a wench, and the real trick was to get stuck so badly that even the wench wouldn't get you out. That's when you'd have to go find a farmer with a tractor, and that wasn't always an option. We spent more than one night out there, shivering, waiting for daylight and some drying up so we could get back home.

The thing that amazes me now, as I think back on it is this: Some parents actually allowed us to pick up their teenage daughters in those WWII Jeeps and take them off with us.

What the fuck were you thinking?

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