Over Christmas, while driving with my sister and brother-in-law to Tampa, we found ourselves behind a pickup truck on the highway, and dangling from the vehicle’s trailer hitch was a set of shiny, swinging balls. Balls! It took a moment to process. Who was this tinted-windowed, truck driving, blatant ball displayer? Yet! If the automobile is an unconscious expression of the phallus, why not take it to the natural conclusion and include the testes? In the flat, stark Florida sunlight they swayed back and forth, disconcertingly, mesmerizingly. (How may traffic accidents can be attributed to these?) While some styles are garish, these shiny chrome eggs swayed metronomically; it was almost like the sensation of watching a Newton’s Cradle, the back and forth motion so soothing and steady.
Well, according to Radar, the rising trend has offended the sensibilities of residents of the state of Virginia. (And rightly so! WTF, Florida?) A state delegate has proposed a ball ban bill to curtail the trend of “truck nuts.”
Far be it from me to impede on self-expression, but the whole “my truck’s got low-hangers” thing smacks of overcompensation. But when has the south ever not been about that?