Travelling Salesman

Here's my pitch:


Probably my favorite thing to do in a kilt is travel. My family is the type to take those special road trips designed to cram four close relatives into a sardine can with a metric ton of baggage blocking the rear view mirror. Who doesn't like those kinds of vacations? At any rate, one thing I absolutely DO NOT enjoy is being cooped up in the mobile box of steel with a pair of trousers on: assuredly what comes to mind for my male readers is the awkward bunching up of fabric and warmth in our nether regions, accompanied by the all-too-frequent but necessary picking at said area to free up some space and comfort - usually at the dismay of any other passengers unfortunate enough to glance in the poor fellow's direction.

Why do that to yourself?

Gentlemen, in a kilt, the days of awkward readjustments you only think you're addressing with the skill and stealth of a ninja (trust me - everyone notices) are gone. Think, if you will, how liberating it must be to sit comfortably in your Hummer, Ford F350, suped-up Titan, or, in my case, hybrid Prius (what? It gets killer mileage) for hours without having to adjust yourself beyond shifting in the seat to relax that oh-so-satisfied rear end. If that's not enough, you can enjoy a full range of motion without the normal restrictions of pant legs to drag you down, a very desirable ability on those long stretches of highway. (And if it ever gets a bit toasty, just lift a pleat to the AC vent and chill out.)

I certainly enjoyed it - more than the usual, bifurcated journey, anyhow. It at least makes "I spy" and "20 Questions" more bearable.