But the best ride of all was this black lady in a big fuckin' Caddy on the turnpike outside New York. When I slid into the front, she tossed me a bag of grass and said, "We roll." And I was hip. Two hours later, we're sailing down a no-name country road in Pennsylvania -- signs all over the place saying things like "Real Amish Homestyle Cooking" and "Dutch Antiques." We found a dead road that snaked into a tangle of old woods and parked.

And she's sucking my dick. Oh, did I forget to mention my dick? It's not that long, only about 6 or so inches, but it's got the dimensions of a Pepsi can. And I think width counts. At least, that's what they tell me.

And me and this New York woman, I think she said she was from Yonkers, are stoned out and she's trying to get her mouth over the head of my water rat. And then she says, "This is too good to pass up -- fuck me, Mr. Ed." Now, believe it or not, hitchhiking demon that I was, I was careful, and I told her, "I got no rubbers."

And you know what she did? She just flopped onto her belly and said, "Then I guess you'll just have poke me up the Hershey Highway." Which was funny, since we weren't that far from the real Hershey, where they make the chocolate. It was a squeeze, but she didn't seem to mind at all. When I finished she just went kind of "Um-hmm" and rolled over onto her back. Her eyes were all glazed over. She mumbled, "Honey, can you drive, 'cause I'm gonna take a little nap." And that's what she did. She was snoring by the time we got to Gettysburg.

Read No. 21

Private Life Romance, relationships, and the personal side of Table Talk