I Have a Body in the Trunk . . .

It’s amazing how people in the gym try to distract you. I always wondered if they see that your commitment level is higher than theirs and do what they can to throw you off your game.  

I relay this incident and let the reader judge for themselves if my assertion is without merit.  

The cardio area, which consisted of treadmills, bikes, steppers and elliptical machines was packed, but the free weights section was practically empty. There was only five of us in this area, and after warming up, I started my full body workout.  

I was about to do my last set of barbell bent over rows, when an elderly man approached me.  

“I got pulled over on my way here,” he said. “I was doing 35 in a 50-mile zone.” 

I looked at him suspiciously, wondering why he was telling me this.  

“The officer approached the car,” he continued, “‘license and registration please.’” 

“I don’t have it” 

“‘Why not?’” 

“This is not my car.” 

“‘It’s not?’” 

“No, I stole it. I killed the owner and threw his body in the trunk.” 

“‘Sir,’” he said, drawing his gun. “‘Step out of the car.’” 

“He patted me down, and called for backup. Three more squad cars came. A burly Sergeant approached me.” 

“‘Sir, do you have your license and registration?’” 

“Of course, I said.” 

“‘Are you the owner of this car?’” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“‘You mind opening the trunk?’” 

“Of course not.” 

“‘OK. Who is the wise A$$ that called in a body in the trunk?’” 

“Perhaps, the same person who said I was doing 70 in a 35-mile zone.” 

He concluded the above tale and walked away. I looked around the gym. My wife must have noticed the incredulous look on my face, and asked me what was wrong. Look around the gym I told her. There are only five of us in this area. One woman by the rack, the guy on the Smith Machine, you and me.  

“What of it?”  

“Tell me with all of these others in the gym,” I said. “Why would that old man come and tell me this story.” 

I repeated the aforementioned story, and she was flabbergasted. She could not find any discernible reason why I was chosen to be the benefactor of such a tale. 

 I ask you dear reader, if my earlier assertion is wrong and it was not to distract me, leave a comment and tell me, why this old man picked me to tell his lurid anecdote. 



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