When I was in law school, I clerked for a personal injury defense firm. One day I was asked to pick up a long haul truck driver at the airport and shuttle him to the courthouse for trial. He was a stereotypical East Texas good ole boy type. I was young, 22ish, and drove a sports car with a stick shift. The driver was apparently nervous, as I was, riding for over 45 minutes in the car with me. He chattered continuously about what appeared to be his subject of choice—road kill—or, more specifically, armadillo meat. Apparently to some this is a delicacy. He went on for almost 30 minutes about the "different" types of meat in an armadillo, i.e., tastes like fish, chicken, beef, etc. At some point, when reaching for my shift, I grabbed his leg by accident. His conversation abruptly changed to his wife—the subject that he chattered about the rest of the trip. He apparently thought his armadillo conversation had me turned on.