After a lengthy day or two on any beach, ranging from Edisto to Charleston, and after the occasion for wearing a bathing suit fashioned from man-made fabrics has long passed, a realization comes to light in the back of the 1996 Jeep Cherokee you are riding in.
The moisture that is typically repelled by the body delivers a scent of a woman that is typically rejected by the breathability of natural textiles.
The outcome is a delightful scent, an odor to be cherished by all, much like the locked door of a car and a fart on a first date.
"Holy fucking shit, Sean!" exclaimed Ryan. "I have been trapped in this pussymobile for 3 hours and it is fucking killing me!"
"Relax, Bro,"replied Matt. "It's just a Carolina Clam Bake."
"What in the fuck are you talking about?" replied Ryan. "It smells like a fisherman's taint!"
"That's only the scent of yeast, slowly baking the finest bread known to man!" Matt replied.