Test Drive

Starsky and Hutch declare their feelings for each other in a manly way.

A pair of legs stretched out from under the passenger side of the red Torino emblazoned with its distinctive white stripe. One leg bounced on the cement, marking time to the funky music booming from the car’s radio.

Hutch, perched nearby on a rusty folding chair, watched his hopelessly clueless partner work on the vehicle’s undercarriage. His self-control was fast becoming as wobbly as his chair. For what seemed like hours he had observed Starsky slither around under the Striped Tomato then pop out from under to retrieve a wrench or other tool, the hips encased in those tight jeans so near physically and yet so far away emotionally.

Abruptly Starsky wriggled out from under the car and bounced to his feet. “That’s my girl,” he declared and patted the passenger door. “You should purr like a kitten now!” He ran a hand along the roof affectionately, caressing the vehicle as if it were indeed a cat.

Hutch could stand it no longer. “You love that car more than me,” he griped. “You baby it like nobody’s business!”

“Oh, come on, Blintz. It IS my baby! I gotta give it plenty of TLC.” Starsky glimpsed a slightly dull spot on the red paint and quickly rubbed his sleeve over it.

Annoyed, Hutch scowled. “Well, I’m tired of being ignored. I’ve been dropping hints left and right, and you’ve been completely clueless.”

Starsky put his hands on his hips. “I give you plenty of attention,” he stated adamantly. “We work together, we play together. What more could you want?”

“Don’t you get it, Stark? I want it all!”

“All?” Starsky was confused. “Just what are you saying, Blintz?”

The blond jumped to his feet, overturning the rickety metal chair, and stomped over to plant himself eye to eye, toe to toe, with his partner. “All of it,” he insisted, his voice suddenly low and deep, husky with emotion. “Everything. The whole enchilada.” The intensity of his stare took Starsky’s breath away.

Suddenly, Starsky understood. He leaned forward slightly, bringing their lips tantalizingly close. “You’re jealous? Of my car?!” A huge grin stretched his mouth. “Awww, Hutch, I didn’t know you felt that way. I guess I was just too wrapped up with the Torino to get the hint.”

“You wanna drive my stick-shift?” Hutch said suggestively.

“I’d like to give you a lube job,” replied Starsky, leering.

“You gonna crank my shaft?”

“Gonna blow your gaskets.”

“I’ll check your dipstick.”

“You’re due for a service and inspection.”

“Gonna rotate your tires.”

“Wanna tighten my nuts?”

“Let’s take this for a test drive.”

“Come on Blintz, I’ll let you check under my hood.”

Needless to say they both got a much-needed tune-up.