Ben and Sylvia

Ben and Sylvia Porter were in the back seat of their ‘57 Chevy. They were seventy six years of age and celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was also the fiftieth anniversary of their consummation. That was September 22, 1962. A Saturday.

Back then they were on their way to Niagara Falls, New York. A mecca for newlyweds. Then the rains came. A torrential downpour.

They pulled over to the side of the road that night and waited. After two hours the rains were even heavier.

“It’s a little roomier in the back seat, Sylvia," said Ben. “We’ll be more comfortable. We’re going to be here a while."

“Only if you think so," said Sylvia.

The honeymoon bed never stood a chance.

Now it was now September 22, 2012. A Saturday. Parked in the garage of their home, Ben and Sylvia decided to give it one more go in the back seat of that same ‘57 Chevy.

“It seemed so much bigger back then,” said Sylvia.

“You talking about me or the backseat?” said Ben.

“Very funny,” said Sylvia. “You I expected to shrink. But the car’s a different story. How did we manage it that night? I can barely get my leg over the front seat now.”

“How about if I lift your leg over my shoulder like this?” said Ben

“Ouch!” said Sylvia. “How about no. How about I face you, sitting on your lap.”

“Ouch!” said Ben. “I think you broke it!"

“What?” said Sylvia.

“You forgot to take off your underwear,” said Ben.

“That’s always been your job,” said Sylvia.

“Sorry, ol’ girl,” said Ben. “The memories not what it used to be. How about we take a breather?”

“But we haven’t done anything yet,” said Sylvia.

“How about we just make out then?” said Ben.

“Make out?” said Sylvia. “Does anyone actually say that anymore? I think that expression went out the window with the record player.”

“Well whatever they’re call it,” said Ben. “Just come over here and give me some lip.”

Sylvia slid into Ben’s arms, tilted her head and parted her mouth ever so slightly.

“Oh, Jesus,” said Ben. “My dentures just came loose. Damn bargain brand denture cream!”

“What say we just watch a movie,” said Sylvia. “And call it a night?”

“Sounds like a hell of a plan,” said Ben. “And that gives me an idea. You hop into the front seat and I’ll be right back.”

In a short while Ben came back with the TV. He placed it on the hood of the engine and plugged it in. He then slid a disc into the side panel of the television and got in on the driver’s side.

“Now this is nice," said Sylvia. “And painless."

“I thought you’d like it," said Ben.

Ben then grabbed the remote out of his robe pocket and pressed play.

“Slide over here, little lady,” said Ben. “And no funny business.”

Before the opening credits to Breakfast at Tiffany’s were over, Ben and Sylvia were fast asleep. Stranded on a highway somewhere between the wedding chapel and Niagara Falls on a rainy Saturday afternoon in 1962.