Two steaks make a run for it in Swansboro./ Photo from YouTube

What do you get when you put three friends in a truck, load it with steaks and head to the Crystal Coast? Sore ribs brought on by several hours of lowbrow humor.

Two of the three of us had birthdays recently, and since I had access to free lodging in Swansboro we made plans for a minuscule road trip. After landing at our destination, we'd grill some steaks and then set out for some new adventure that would inspire either a Hollywood movie franchise or an episode of Dateline NBC.

One of the guys in our trio insisted on buying some high dollar steaks as his contribution to the trip. I informed him that I was totally fine with a nice steak from a local grocery store, but he told me to handle the driving and he'd handle the steak. Fair enough. 

While I'll go to my grave believing there is no greater argument than which temperature to set the thermostat, how to cook a steak is a solid runner-up.  According to my co-conspirators on this Swansboro trip, there is something wrong with me because I like my steak done to the point where it doesn't still have a pulse.

If you like your steak so undercooked you can ride it from the grill to the table, that's your business. Every six weeks there's some new bacteria that can eat through iron ore like cotton candy, so stopping short of marinating my food in Purell, I'll be taking every precaution.

After my steak was nearly done, the other two guys put their steaks on the grill. I don't know if the meat completely landed on the grill before they turned it over, but their steaks were in the vicinity of charcoal heat for upwards of five minutes. I saw one of the steaks trying to sneak over to the front yard to graze, but my buddy was quick and got it back on the grill for another 30-seconds or so.

When the grilling was over I had a nicely cooked steak while my friends boasted what most veterinarians would classify as a pet. If you think I'm exaggerating, I saw one of the undercooked steaks have a bite of twice baked potato and salad while my friend wasn't looking.

I have to say my steak was delicious and I enjoyed it very, very much. My two buddies, however, took the enjoyment of the steaks to a new level. It was as if they were test subjects for some new drug that brought on manic bliss. Each bite was followed by groans and moans of joy, pleasure, and wonder. One of the guys was enjoying the steak so much he became angry, as his central nervous system had processed all the joyful pheromones it could. 

When deputies arrived at our door to follow up on reports of what one neighbor described as a "voodoo ritual", the guys brought their verbal display of love for the steak down a notch but continued enjoying the food nonetheless.

As for that adventure that was to take place after our meal, it was interrupted by a world-class case of the Itus. A finer food coma you’ll never see. One of the guys fell into such a deep sleep we had to leave him down there. We’re going to go check on him in a few days.

The last time I went on a road trip with these guys a tire on the truck blew out and we were stranded on the side of I-40 for 90 minutes in 30F weather because the lug nuts on the tire didn't match the tire tool supplied with the truck. It wasn't my vehicle, but I don't mind driving at night so I was deputized to be the chauffeur. It was the same situation last week, only this time the truck key split into three pieces when I turned the truck off. It was the equivalent of putting a Rubik’s cube back together to crank the truck for the rest of the weekend.

Minor vehicular issues aside, we had a great time hanging out on the pier in front of the house on the White Oak River. Hopefully, we'll be able to do it again before the demon summer comes around with it's smothering humidity, triple-digit temperatures, and crowded beaches. Also, if steaks are involved, we'll distribute fliers and earplugs in advance.

Jon Dawson’s columns are published weekly by Neuse News. Contact Jon at jon@neusenews.com and www.jondawson.com.