Them's The Brakes

So I noticed the other day that my driver’s license had expired. Actually, I noticed it had expired three years ago but it wasn’t until the other day that I found my license after losing it while on a bust. The meth head that I jailed had stolen it from me while I told him how much rougher my life had been. We were smoking and crying in the back of the SUV and the little turd burglar must have swiped it from the pocket on my leather vest. People keep telling me to keep my wallet in my front pants pocket so it won’t get stolen but I don’t listen to that New Age bullshit. Putting a wallet in my front pants pocket would make me look like I had a goiter on my package because my wallet is the size of a…giant goiter. I pay with cash for everything. I don’t believe in using credit or debit cards. Well I do, but the Bank of Hawaii says I don’t so I have to go with their advice.

Plus, having my wallet there would throw my whole balance off when I’m chasin’ perps through alleys, crack houses and high quality strip clubs. Don’t ask me why they always go to the skin bins but hey, I ain’t crazy ‘nough to complain. Anyway, this rear admiral I busted had my driver’s license while in the clink and if you don’t think they can’t get online in prison think again. Man, criminals get three meals a day, two hours of computer access, free weight training and social bonds that last a lifetime, especially if you commit murder. I tell ya, it’s better than community college. I’m thinking of training half of my kids to be criminals and the other half to read books and go to school and all that shit just to see who comes out better. I’m like a modern day experimentalist guy, just like Edmund Fraud without the desire to bang my mother.








Lucky Stiffs





So, using my driver’s license this shitwad was able to get a bunch of credit cards and order all kinds of shit under my name. Luckily the warden thought it was strange that crates of Vaseline, crowbars and Jean Claude Van Damme movies kept showing up so he got off of his keester and looked into it. I was pretty glad to get it all straightened out, the warden even let me keep the Van Damme movies which means my next three weeks are all booked up baby.








He has “can kick fast” on his resume








So, as I was sayin’, when I got my license back I noticed it had expired. I keep getting my license to drive mixed up with my license to kill which I haven’t gotten back from Sally Struthers yet. I don’t understand it, Sally, I took your course in gun repair which is listed as a pre-requisite, so what the fuck? Take a second from blowing Meathead and get yer ass in gear.

I was pretty nervous about renewing my driver’s license because in Hawaii they just put new laws in place where you have to actually retake the driving test. I haven’t taken a driver’s test since the ‘70s. They keep telling me it’s just a formality but I’m not really sure what that means so I went to the DMV in a tuxedo. Before I went though, I had to prepare myself. I watched the movie “License to Drive” three times. This movie is great, not only does it prepare you for the bitchy, depressed people that work at the DMV, it’s also funny as shit. I just hope the DMV still uses Commodore 64’s for the multiple choice part and that Heather Graham will have sex with me when I’m done. An interesting piece of trivia, Corey Haim still drives the Volkswagen he and Heather Graham drive off in at the end of the movie. Just 12 more payments and it’s his.







Get out of my car, and into the parole office








Once I got to the DMV I had plenty of time to worry about failing the test. Looks like nobody in Honolulu has a job because I was there at 10:00 am on a Wednesday and I thought I had accidentally gone to the funeral for the Pope. There were enough people there to start my own cult and lucky for me the air conditioning wasn’t working so it was a comfy 135 degrees. I was sweating like James Gandolfini and ended up ruining my driver’s education pamphlet. I’m almost 100% that I had busted half of the people in there in the past, good thing I was wearing a hat and sunglasses. I was so hot and nervous I started to have a ‘Nam flashback right then and there. The only thing that saved me was when a woman at the front of the line gave me her number after I threatened to gut her like a pig and burn her village to the ground. Thanks Charlie, or whatever your name is.





“Now serving number 457,985”





Once I met my driving instructor I became even more nervous. Mr. Bridgestone was a prick right from the start. He told me to go into a room to do the written part first. I won’t bore you with all of the questions but I’ll give you a sample of one. I was given a question and I had three choices or an “Other” section where I would provide what I thought was the right answer. I chose “Other” for pretty much all of them because none of them were right.

1. Pedestrians and cyclists are most at risk from vehicles because:

a) They are more likely to be injured in an accident
b) They are more often at fault when an accident occurs
c) They are slower
d) Other: Pedestrians and cyclists are actually most at risk from my vehicle because I hate those bastards.





Mr. Bridgestone corrects my test




Next up was the actual driving part. I asked them if they had anything in a ’69 Dodge Charger but they told me the Ford Focus was all they had. After spending 20 minutes trying to fit into the thing, I thought that maybe Ford should “focus” on making a vehicle that can seat more than 2 Hobbits. Jesus that thing was small, if I ever got into an accident with that thing my knees would become part of my brain. Of course I did have an accident but the airbag saved me. I had turned Mr. Bridgestone’s off by accident because I thought the switch for it was a cigarette lighter.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. We started off fine. After figuring out where the lighter was I lit a cigarette to relax. Mr. Bridgestone just scribbled notes as we got onto the freeway. Then I did my usual screaming rant at all the idiot drivers, asked Bridgey to hold the wheel while I scratched my nether regions (I require both hands for that) and took us on a little side trip to the Drive-Thru Liquor store because I remembered that Beth was out of Peach Schnapps and I was low on Bud. Of course, we had a little mishap when I used the steering wheel to crack open a brewski, this is how I used to roll in the ‘70s so I figured it was allowed now. Well, the mishap occurred when I noticed this sweet piece of ass struttin’ her stuff on the sidewalk after pulling out of the liquor store. I tried to adjust my mirrors to get a better view as we drove past and I rear-ended a pickup truck and then careened into a jewelry store. I was ok but Mr. Bridgestone needed a few stitches, well a lot of stitches, but he’s still pretty much recognizable.













They’ll be able to buff that out at the shop no problem

Once Bridgestone gets out of the hospital he’ll be able to give me the results of my test. In the meantime I’m getting Beth to drive me around wherever we go just to play it safe. I wouldn’t want to be pulled over while driving without a license, that’d just be too embarrassing.