So Sgt. Blass made a comment about his 1972 Bel Aire, his old girlfriend, and bench seats. And man oh man, did that trigger some memories. My best friend Eddie, had a 1963 Chevy Bell Aire (Three on the Column) with bench seats in the front and the back. And well, who cared what they were doing up front? We had our own world in the backseat. And many a window got fogged up!
When I got my beautiful 1963 Chrysler Newport, which was big enough inside to rent out, and at least four full sized Teens could hide in the trunk to go to a drive in- I showed it to my girlfriend's Parents.
I had them watch as my girl and I, laid down on the back seat, and could close the doors without touching either door! (She was four foot six, and I was all of four foot eleven. Neither of broke five foot before 20! LOL) They grounded her immediately and I sold the car.
My older brother called Bench Seats: "The stairway to having to go to Confession."- We were Catholics. My Other brother said if you were named after where you were conceived, we would all have names like: Chevy, Ford, Pontiac, Buick, and in rare cases: Studebaker. And our middle names would all be: Bench Seat.
Those Bench seats (and no seat belts) almost demanded your girl slide over, unlock your door, and then she would just move back enough for you to use the steering wheel. Once you backed out of the driveway, she was already leaning on your shoulder.
In full size cars, those seats were darn near couches! I posted the picture of the guys hand on the girls legs. For two reasons. One: lots of us drove like that, but not once on a girl's legs that were crossed. I guess they were mad at each other.
And Two: that was the "safe driving position" so Cops didn't see you were holding your girl instead of paying attention to the road.
And the last picture, with the girl in short shorts...yeah. Legs. You got to see miles of them when you held their door. And every guy I knew held the passenger door open for his girl. Mini skirts were in, so many guys eyes bulged out. Well, mostly eyes.
In the summer, short shorts, or two piece bathing suits...same thing. Just put a towel down to keep the Bench seat dry. And speaking of holding the door for the girl...even if you were mad, or had a spat. You still opened and closed her door. It was a stark reminder that she wasn't done with you yet...and hadn't forgive you. You had to march all the way to her door. Hold it open as she ghosted you and ran right into her Mom's house. Sigh.

And if you did something wrong or had a spat, before you were done with the date...she would simply slide over to the passenger door. Sometimes it felt like you needed to turn the heater on ...the atmosphere was so frigid. But if you liked each other...you found a way to get her to inch back to your side of the car.
And red lights. Oh dear. Your girl, feeling good, being young...why not lean over for a quick peck. Then you hear horns behind you. Somehow, you went from a cuddle to fog up the window passion...in seconds. And maybe that's why my generation called it "being horny." LOL
Sometimes, because we were thin back then, I only knew two fat people in High School, and neither were really fat, they had that body type that mimics it. Few girls busted 110 Pounds, and few guys busted 145 pounds. If they did, they were on the Football Team.
Sometimes we would put two couples in the front seat, Usually your best bud, and his girl. And then in the back some "running Budies" and their girls. And off you went to tube in the river, climb the cliffs in the Valley, or just to cruise in the car until you went to DQ.
And that was its own kind of fun.
So, thank you Sgt. Blass for opening he throttle and racing down Memory Lane!