A Story for Dcup

(about a month ago, I promised Dcup at PoliTits a story that involved sex and pickup trucks. This isn't the best one.)
Back in the dark ages (for me, around 1977), they started growing "sinsemilla" in Northern California. At the time, most of the "pot-heads" were into "columbian" or "jamaican" or "maui wowie", but I was an early fan of "homegrown". It started as a cheap thing, but I watched it become chic, and I had the inside track.
I found myself involved with a lady for whom life was a constant adventure, who taught me the principle of THANOR: "There Are No Rules". She called herself "Cat", even though her real name was "Cathy". It was a strange time. I had just finished working 4 months on a Grateful Dead tour, with a few weeks before the next semester, and she showed up as my neighbor. She was a stripper from Anchorage, Alaska, who had come back to help care for her ill mother, who lived next door. She was a few years older than I. It was a match made in San Francisco.
I had to make a "run" up to a place in a part of No.Cal. that meant going places that normal people avoid. I owned 2 vehicles at the time. "Cat" had been out in my (very nice) SAAB 99 Turbo. But the SAAb is not a good back woods wilderness "this ain't a road. It's a goat trail" vehicle.
For that I had: The 1963 Willy's pickup. A "Jeep" back when it meant something. It was called "the old #2". I did a great job of maintaining the parts that kept it running, but the "cosmetics" were neglected. That truck would go anywhere.
So Cat and I head north together. For some reason, she was uncomfortable with seeing the road through the floorboards, so I stopped off at my Uncle's to get a piece of plywood to cover the hole in the floor. She wasn't all that impressed by my act of chivalry, but she looked much less in a state of panic. So I was a little late to...um...make a transaction. But we made it.
We're coming back down the coast when she says "I wanna screw. Pull over somewhere." So I thought I found a place. Not a really romantic place, but a place.
We throw the old sleeping bag out across the bed of the pickup for padding, and have at it. I was young then, and believed that I was a sexual superstar. She was a very vocal woman, so our sex was far from quiet.
What I missed was that there was a nightclub overlooking where we parked to screw. When I heard the round of applause, I realized that the back of a pickup truck is open. Cat then waved to the audience. I was not so composed. I was a little concerned that someone might call the cops, as there were 10 lbs. of illegal substance in the cab. We got back on the road.
I'm glad there weren't digital cameras in 1977