Perhaps I am telling on myself here, but have you ever had a road beer?
You know. It's payday and you have been working in the summer sun all week. You stop off on your way home or out to a friend's place and pick up some beer to take with you. You set it on the seat next to you and start on your merry way, but there is something peculiar about this beer.
It calls to you.
You try to ignore it and concentrate on your driving, and yet you can't help glancing over to see the cool beads of moisture sliding down the side and creating small rings of wet on your upolstery. You know it is against the law to drink one of these while driving, or to even have a open one in the car with you. But it is hot and dry, and the lure is too strong, and you crack one and sip it with a satisfaction, and find yourself much more at ease as you can pay more attention to the road. This is a road beer.
This should never be confused with a "one for the road" beers. Those are just dangerous and stupid. In no way am I endorsing drunken driving, that kills people. But in my mind, covering a mile and a half of empty road at 30 mph in broad daylight with two sips of beer is a forgivable offence.
Flannery used to kid me when we were first married how I would always come home with a five pack, an eleven pack, or a 23er for the weekend. "You damn fool," she would chide, and she was right. No reasonable, responsible adult would engage in this sort of behavior. But I defended my position with the fact that all of the roads I traveled home were one lane and dirt, it was pretty easy to spot the sheriff coming.
And besides, it called to me so sweetly.