Friday, September 24, 2010

you get into MY car, billy ocean

It’s good to point out that in my life time of driving (after I finally passed my permit test), I’ve had several speeding tickets (note to future drivers of America: don’t let the four Germans you have crammed in the back seat of your Sunturd speak to the police officer on your behalf), expired tags (I swear I didn’t know they mailed those babies to you), an illegal license plate (I rightfully blamed that one on the DMV), a collision at a red light (you should have let me over, jerk), , parking tickets galore (no parking? No problem!), a collision with a construction barrel (not nearly as harmful as one would think), a collision with a mailbox (still makes me laugh to this day that I somehow convinced my mom she should go apologize to the owners for me for the fact that their mailbox was now 20 feet on the other side of the road and to tell them awesome job on filling in that pot hole in 20 minutes flat), etc. My attorney actually fired me because I wasn’t a paying client and he didn’t even do traffic infractions.

A few years ago, despite all of the aforementioned facts, I decided to purchase this little red race car. Now My little red race car was just what I needed at the time. My car was breaking down and my emotional breakdowns were getting worse with each call home to my dad to come help me. Dad and I went shopping (he was ONLY there for a good deal…we all know how I would have gotten taken advantage of) and when I laid eyes upon that beauty, I had to have her. And so it was. But loving her hasn’t come easy. She drove herself into a wall 4 days after I got her (I told her to stop looking at hotties in the rearview mirror), she got rear ended at a red light (karma’s a bitch when your car is a hoochie), and she tried to commit suicide by throwing herself into a ditch and having to be towed out by a Chinese angel. So, as it is with the time I got kidnapped, we’re lucky she’s alive.

If there is one thing I have a real problem with (and I only have ONE problem), it’s traffic cops. When I evaluate why I am so mad about traffic cops, it really boils down to the fact that I don’t feel like I deserve tickets. Ever. I know a lot of people who do. But not me. A few weeks ago, I drove with Natalie to Miami. We stopped in West Palm Beach to pick Deb up who had flown in for the weekend from NYC. Natalie and I had gotten a late start but we felt badly confessing this to Deb as she was laying on a bench in the airport people watching. At 11 o’clock at night. Because it was late, and we were still far away, I decided to pull out one of the trustier tricks I keep in my back pocket. BRIGHT LIGHTS FOR ALL. I realize most drunkards drive with their brights on to see the popo. While I do not condone drunk driving, I do have to admit that they make a good case for driving with your brights on. I’ve been driving with my brights on for years. My lead foot just always seems to get caught on the switch when I put it in the car. Bright lights to spot the popo and 20 miles over the speed limit and I was golden. We turned Mandy Moore up as loud as she could go (oh hey, you take what you can get when your ipod is broken) and made our way to the airport. Only, we got stopped. By something called a dual stalker radar. Personally that name is offensive. I don’t need ANY stalkers, but definitely not multiple stalkers. After some smiling, and some cooing, the officer gave me a ticket for 9 over and told me to slow down. Not to let a ticket ruin our fun, we turned up Billy Ocean’s Get Out of My Car and pulled in to pick Deb up. She was welcomed with the dance you see in the picture. By this point I’m pretty sure it was 1 am. Poor Deb had been laid up on a bench for 3 hours, and Natalie and I on the side of the road. Talk about the start to a great weekend!

Well, I am proud to say that 131 buckaroos, and a traffic class online later, I am cleared for safe driving again. When you take traffic school online, you can let it play it the background while you clean your bathroom, make your dinner, change the cat litter and talk on the phone. Then you get SIX tries to pass the test. I only know this because I failed it 3 times and each time it gave me one less try. AND, because I attended this funny and catchy traffic school, I get free tickets to a stand-up comedy show. In Palm Beach County. I’ve got plans that night but I bet if I time it JUST RIGHT, I can do both. I mean, it didn’t take me that long to get to Palm Beach the last time. Anyone wanna ride wit me?

1 comment:

  1. I like how you blame your hoochie car for visiting the ditch when I have recorded evidence it was in fact YOUR fault since you were busy leaving ME a voice mail at the time of said incident.

    The VM went something like this...."hey, where are you, it's Mer...UGH....Oh My..UGH...ahhh. ugh. CLICK.

    This evidence clearly indicates that you were to blame. Not the car. I will share a small portion of the blame - approximately 2% since you were attempting to reach me. You get 98% of the blame. If your hoochie car ever decides to sue you for defamation, I will provide the recorded evidence.