During the early days of the internet, and I’m talking 56k modems and dial-up bulletin board systems, I got that first taste of seeing nudes that were not paid models. Granted, you only got a file name that was limited on description, then you downloaded the image and after a minute or so, you got to see what the image was. Those were rough days. I can’t count the times I downloaded an image that didn’t match the title. It was like the Dark Ages, man!
So completely unrelated to the burgeoning Internet, my wife and I had purchased a used convertible. The car was a piece of crap, but fun to drive. In south Texas, we’d have the air conditioner running full blast just to compete with the hot breeze coming into the car. We'd take these drives on the back roads, hair going everywhere, cool air blowing from below but the hot sun beating down and the end result always seemed to be sunburn. But we looked cool doing it.
It was during this time where I developed this interest in seeing pictures of women in convertibles. I really had a thing for this look of a lady with long hair, a baseball cap with the hair pulled like a ponytail through the back, and sunglasses. Rayban's. I still like that look, and it is pretty common here in Texas.
One morning as I was checking out one of the handful of BBS's I found that would share R-rated images, I found an image labeled “topless” and it sounded like a good bet. As luck would have it, it was a topless woman sitting in a convertible, same make and model and same color as ours. I felt like I had won the lottery. I saved the file in some random folder with no worries about anyone seeing it, and moved on to whatever I was doing. But a few days later, I was alone at the house and decided to take another look at that picture. Sure, the woman was pretty and she had a nice set of boobs, but it needed something.
In comes my amateur editing skills. I don’t even recall the free tool I used, perhaps Paint or some such. I opened up several pictures I had snapped of my wife and had a friend scan in for us. At that early stage, we had no scanner at our house, no digital cameras, and we were years away from cell phones with cameras. I found a photo where the sizes were pretty close, and I slowly cut the outline of my wife's head and her dark hair, then copied and pasted it onto the image of the topless woman in the convertible.
By today's standards, even the most computer illiterate amongst us would see how fake it was, but for that day and age, it looked like a specimen that could be used in a court case to say, yes, my wife was sitting in that very convertible.
And then it happened.
A little backstory. This took place in the first home we owned. It was across the street from my wife's parents home. You can see this coming.
My computer was positioned in a makeshift office that we had built next to the back door of the house. And sure enough, my father-in-law gave one knock as was customary, and walked right in the door. And there was his daughter, topless, in the same convertible that was sitting in our driveway.
I scrambled to hide the picture and while I was quick to do so, I have always assumed that he got an eyeful. Yet, he never said a word. His weed eater had crapped out and he wanted to barrow mine. "Of course, you can." as I led him out to the shed, still white as a ghost, my heart pounding.
We got rid of the convertible less than a year later when I realized it would cost me more in repairs than I was willing to spend. But every so often, I see a woman driving a convertible and I imagine that scene of my father-in-law walking in on my artwork of his daughter.