Money Suck 1 Turns 15 – Did he just say he wanted to drive?

I don’t fully remember when I first thought about getting my license; I guess it had to be around the same age of 15 years old as my son is right now.  Of course, I was much older looking and twice as mature as my oldest son, who I call MoneySuck 1, so it made sense to me (maybe not my parents) that I should be barreling down the road at breakneck speed with twelve of my closest friends in the family truckster, a full sized 1974 Buick Estate wagon with fine vinyl interior and faux wood panels. In reality, it was a hardened steel tank disguised as a station wagon.  I’m sure my parents were happy to have a tank protecting their idiot teenagers for the inevitable attempts to jump the Snake River canyon or set the record for driving backward. 

If you’re reading this and you own a kid, you’re in one of three positions in life.  1) Your kid is not even close to driving age so you should not care about this now.  However, if you’re a Tiger parent you continue to read since you want to know and control everything in your kid’s future which ramps up your fears of anything remotely "bad" happening to your infallible kid.  2)  My current situation, the second most dangerous time in your life.  3)  Your kid is already past his teens and you are reading this so you made it out alive, congratulation.  I hope to make it to situation three.

The process starts out with finding a driving school for him to get his permit.  In my day we had our driver’s education at the school we attended but in today’s world, you have to drop $625 to have a former cab driver teach your kid to drive.  Yeah, that’s who I want teaching my kid to drive, another mindless driver.  This left us no choice but a private school. After much vetting, we chose a blue ribbon school that comes highly recommended garnering a 4-star rating on Yelp and, of utmost importance to us, is most convenient.  I chose Option 6 below.

Teen Program (Option 6): $625.  Regular Price: $790 (Discount $165)

·         30 hours in-classroom instruction.

·         12 hours behind-the-wheel individualized 1-on-1 training.

·         Parallel parking and highway training.

·         Obtain instruction permit 2nd week of class.

·         Licensed professional instructor.

·         Alive @25 defensive driving course ($100 value)

·         State certification paperwork.

·         Certificate of Completion.

We signed him up at The Dale Earnhardt Dangerous Driving School for the Young.  Contrary to my wife’s assertions that I'm cheap, I signed him up for the deluxe course, Option 6, not because of the discount but because of an important safety feature.  Nothing in the course description mattered except I wanted him to have the most time possible in the car with the instructor before I had to be put in that dangerous position.  If there was an Option 7; you never have to be in the car with him for the next five years, I would have paid up in a heartbeat.  The  Alive @ 25 option ($100 value) was thrown in for free. I would have preferred getting the $100 so I could bet that he never makes it past the age of twenty-five. I figure if driving doesn’t kill him, I will at some point in the process. I logically think to myself; why not get paid to increase his odds of getting killed or at least ignore the stupid advice of “Drive Defensively? ”  It’s a win, win for me and I’m sure down the road a win for some personal injury lawyer? They would not agree to me dropping the Alive @25 option in exchange for the $100, what a crock!

Ok, all set.  He prepares to head off to class and for the second time in his life, he is excited about school. T-Minus two weeks until Money Suck 1 has his permit and he will want me to take him out into the jungle of Urban driving.  In some religions, they call this waiting period, Purgatory.  

Money Suck 1 Turns 15. Part II – Will Money Suck 1 be Valedictorian of his class?

My wife, Jo-Ann, gives him a ride to class.  Forbid he be independent enough to take the bus or her to allow it believing it’s too dangerous.  Really, we are sending a 15-year-old off to learn how to drive and you think the bus is dangerous!  It seems a whole lot safer place to be than him driving, but that’s just me.

I wait eagerly for Money Suck 1 to get back from his first two-hour lesson.  I’m curious about how much has changed since I took the class some thirty-eight years ago.  Holy shit, thirty-eight years!  It made me think; what has changed during this time?  Here’s a list that comes to mind.

1.           The cars they drive will are not rust buckets with absolutely no safety features except seat belts and those weren’t mandatory to use.

2.           You can’t load as many people as you can into a car and drive around drinking your illegally obtained liquor.

3.           We did not have nighttime driving restrictions like they do: — Sun.-Thurs., 10 p.m.-6 a.m.; Fri.-Sat., 11 p.m.-6 a.m. Statics show those were prime times for death and near-death experience as a result of drinking and driving fun. No chance for that now.

4.           Unlike kids today who only have to multitask Snapchatting and Instagramming their selfies, we had to deal with five kids in the front seat fighting over shotgun position while navigating the equivalent of a cruise ship.

5.           Cops really didn’t give a crap about us since drinking and driving at that time was the national pastime.

6.           I can’t think of anything else since that was thirty-eight years ago and dementia is setting in.  If you can think of any more, let me know.

They have taken all the fun and excitement out of the youth driving experience.  If today’s rules applied back then we would not have had the inspiration for great movies such as American Graffiti and Dazed & Confused

I hear them pulling into the garage and I don't hear him continuing through the garage so that's good. He’s back.  The questioning goes like this.  How’d it go?  OK.  What did you do?  Not much.  How many other students were in the class?  I don’t know.  What was the instructor’s name?  Ah, I think something like Abadebadabado.  What did you think of the class?  It was boring.  Damn, $625 bucks down the drain.  The things I could have bought for that amount of money; lap dances come to mind first.   Alright, I’m not asking any more questions since I’m one answer away from taking out my belt and beating him.  He was, however, excited to have some new reading material and shows me the Rules of the Road book.  I’m pretty sure I just found what has not changed in thirty-eight years; the bad print, the Dick & Jane prose, and childlike graphics are all the same.  Get to studying boy, I yell at him.  If you can add Valedictorian of the Dale Earnhardt Dangerous Driving School for the Young to your college resume I’m sure Harvard will overlook all the C’s on your report card and lack of participation in anything meaningful while attending High School.  The “Harvard Hustle” continues.

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So wash, rinse, and repeat this interaction for the next two weeks of class and next thing you know he graduated.  Yee Haa, I pushed my first kid through to graduation.  Unfortunately, he came up just short of being named Valedictorian of his class.  He only got one question wrong the whole time; what do you do when you come to a red light?  I mean that’s a little unfair of a question and I believe Abadebadabado had it out for my kid.  Even after several meetings with the purpose of bribing him to change his grade, Abadebadabado, stuck to his guns and did not change his grade.  Man, I thought this is how the system worked, I guess not.  Next time besides offering the seat beads, I’m throwing in one of those Crown air refreshing things. Yeah, just like you I thought they were some ISIS symbol but I they are just air fresheners but I still would not let them on a plane.  That should do it.  Despite our failed bribe attempts, he did graduate as Salutatorian. Looks like; University of Illinois!

It did not take even fifteen seconds for him to blurt out, Dad can you take me to the DMV so I can get my permit?  I take a deep breath thinking; this is happening fast.  So off we go.

Money Suck 1 Turns 15.  Part III – Off to the DMV, this shouldn’t take long!

Hold on there, Youngblood, not so fast.  You just don’t run off to the DMV or any government run entity without some serious pre-counseling.  He’s going to experience combat for the very first time and you don’t send a soldier into war without training.  My drill sergeant when I was in boot camp, let’s call him Dad, always said, “The more sweat on the practice field the less blood on the battlefield”.  As a retired building contractor of thirty-five years, I have had my fair share of experiences with these government “run” organizations.  It’s an experience unlike anything I have ever been taught or read about in folklore.  Here’s the basic pre-counseling 13-step program, because 12 just won’t cut it, you will need to drill into his juvenile brain.

1.       Tell them that everything you ever taught them about working hard, being respectful, having a pleasant look on your face, combing your hair, dressing nice, showering regularly, using deodorant, etc. does not apply to these special employees.  They have something called “Special Dispensation” (Latin for Union) to act this way.  No matter how inept they can’t get fired and they know it.  Suck it up soldier and take it like a man.

2.      Let them know the DMV will be located in a dangerous neighborhood devoid of parking so parking in front of a fire hydrant will likely be their only option.

3.       Inform them there will be several doors and lines with no signage.  If they make it into the correct line the first time, tell them to head to Vegas immediately upon leaving because they have a horseshoe up their ass.

4.      Prepare them for seeing a lot of people that look like they escaped a mental hospital or prison letting them know they are your fellow future drivers. Use this chart below to desensitize them to this visual onslaught and let them know they better be respectful or something bad will happen to them. Mention to them that these people will suddenly seem normal once they start dealing with these government employees.

5.      Have them throw out the assumption of anything logical happening.

6.      Have the bring as many pieces of identification as they have but let them know that no matter how many pieces of identification, insurance info, driver’s school certificates, coupons, old receipts etc. they will be told their missing something.  Have them bring a get out of jail free card since they are honored at these places.

7.       Inform them they will wait in at least fifty-eight different lines so don’t even waste their energy trying to figure out why. Teaching them this mantra; I’m a lemming, I’m a lemming, will help them get through it.

8.       Have them look up and learn the definitions of patience, fortitude and endurance because all of these will be needed. This is actually a blessing for you since even though you tried to teach your kid these things for 15 years, the DMV will take care of this in less than 5 ½ hours. The glass is half full for now.

9.     Add be prepared to that list of definitions because they need to know that the first line they enter, once they reach the employee at that station, is going to have a familiar look on their face.  It’s the same look that you give them every time they did something incredibly stupid except in this case all you did was approach the counter.

10.   Let them know they can’t be fooled into thinking the sleepy-eyed employee does not know what they are doing, they do and will ask them a question that makes no sense at all just to screw with them.  Tell them to be stoic and just nod otherwise they will be intentionally delayed. Have them expect to be given an incredibly small piece of paper with a cryptic code that only can be deciphered by another government employee. You have to explain the following. They will inevitably misplace it among the thousands of other pieces of paper they brought but miraculously find it right 88 minutes later where you left it just in time to see you’re one number away from being called. Tell them that even though it appears they are one away the government office of algorithms decided to put letters in front of this number for no real reason other than it was a government funded study that suggested they should do this for no apparent reason.  Even though their number M16. (We will want to own one of those where through), should be next and you edge to the front of the uncomfortable hunk of plastic they call a chair, at the ready, hold your position. They can chant, M16, M16 with the fervor of a religious radical they will see as the next number pops up, it did not make a difference. C8 pops up on the board. Questions like this will go through their mind. C8, what the heck?  What happened to the M’s? Mother ....! (Does F come after R?) What are the C’s up to?  Tell them to be cool, these are just Jedi mind tricks, sit back into that chair little man, wait some more and maybe they will get back to the M’s by the time it’s his kids turn to get a permit.

11.     M16 finally goes off; I mean pops up on the tote board.  You tell him when his number comes up to yell and bingo and when it does he mindlessly yells out BINGO!  No one will laugh since this is a place devoid of humor, except you.  He once again approaches a sleepy-eyed employee with that same look he has seen on every person that works here.  Because of their consistency, he will figure they must have studied at the Subway Sandwich Employee Training Institute.  He hands him the 12 lbs. of paperwork and after several minutes the clerk finds the right one.  His fingers flashdance across the keyboard as he starts punching info into his Atari 400 computer.  All you hear is; blip, blip, blip, wop, wop, wop, in a seemingly endless stream of rhythmic sounds. Waiting, waiting……waiting.  He mumbles something about these damn slow computers.  Waiting, waiting…then a noise similar an explosion takes place and he smiles.  Hmm, that really sounds like Space Invaders to you but either way, he issued some more paperwork and is pointed in the direction of another line.

12.    Four hours in and he’s moving along.  I’m not sure where too but I’m guessing another line at some point.  Yep, another line.  This time when he gets to the front of the line you most likely will notice people moving behind the counter as if someone hit the slow motion button on life.  Their motions are almost poetic or maybe the word is pathetic.  It takes great mental strength and coordination to move at this pace without falling over.  Tell your kid, stop pushing the play button on their phone it’s not buffering, this is government life, it won’t work and all solution aren’t found on their cell phones.  This government employee dance is known in the unreal world as the Government Employee Shuffle.  Only a handful of their top employees ever reaches this level of expertise.  Even if he doesn’t understand it, have him embrace it for what it is; Art.

13.    Somehow after shuffling through countless lines, he will be given a really nice piece of paper stamped “Drivers Permit”.  He struck gold in just under 5 ½ hours.  Only one more line, the cashier.  Get your loan documents in order and your payment ready.  If you decide to use a credit card be prepared to pay a fee of 1200% of the cost of the permit for this futuristic convenience. Unlike every other line, we went through this line moves like a well-oiled machine.  Henry Ford would be proud.  He will finally see that there is one thing the government unorganizations are experts at and its collecting money. So hocus pocus, we are through the line in a heartbeat and the payment has been approved.  He will now experience the biggest smile on his face since he got an iPod for Christmas.

Money Suck 1 Turns 15. Part IV – Can I drive home?

Can I drive home blurts out MoneySuck 1?  Where's my high paid driving instructor?  Shouldn't he be here? Crap, I've spaced out and did not think of that until now. Do I have a choice?  No, which means this “Freewill” thing is a crock of bull.  So he bolts out of the DMV like Usain Bolt and runs to the car as I do my best imitation of the “Government Employee Shuffle” thus trying to delay my impending death and likely the death of countless innocent others.  I throw him the keys which he promptly misses.  He scrambles under the car to recover the keys, unlocks the doors and jumps into the driver’s seat.  I tell him to pop the trunk that I need to get something.  Fortunately, it will take him twenty minutes to screw up all my scientifically positioned seat and mirrors, so I will have time to prepare for the ride.  I change into my teenager is driving for the first time gear which was the original Under Armour.

Depends 300 dpi.jpg

I get back to the passenger seat all prepared for this ride, a ride that any amusement park would be thrilled to have in their line-up.   I give him my best Indy announcer imitation’ Gentleman, start your engines.  It’s lost on him but I don’t care since I have less than minutes to live.

Trying to be hip, I say “Ok my man, lets roll”.  I realize immediately that’s the last thing those passengers on 9/11 said as they tried to storm the cockpit so I hope this turns out better.   To my amazement, he actually stops at the first red light.  I knew he did not get that question wrong.  Curse you Abadebadabado for marking that wrong on his test, my kid never does anything wrong.  The light turns green and I proceed to hold my breath for a new Guinness world record time of 11 minutes, 57 seconds.  I feel the car jerking around and it bumping up and down but my eyes are closed so I’m really not sure what’s going on.  I do however hope that bump a minute ago was a bicyclist since I would not want to damage my suspension on just a pothole.

Suddenly the car comes to a screeching halt.  MoneySuck 1 yells out with great surprise in his voice; were home. I open my eyes and thinking he meant; How about that, we made it home alive. I'm sure his surprise was nothing compared to mine.  How did I do Dad?  I really have no idea since my eyes were closed, so I lie to him like I always do; you did great son!  I’ll let the wreckage of these lies play out later in his life when he realizes he’s not great at everything and his boss tells him just that.

He bounds into the house and tells his Mother, "Dad said I did great!" Please take me for a drive, now!  Ha, I love this kid now more than ever but I think to myself, be careful of what you ask for sonny boy.  Your turn, wifey poo.  As my good friend, Edward R. Murrow liked to say; “Good luck and good night”, my dear.

Money Suck 1 Turns 15. Part V – Mom’s turn, this should go well.

His Mom agrees to drive with him and tells him she will meet him out at the car and without hesitation runs out to the car and starts it right up.  Little does he know but will now learn, women have their own form of the “Government Employee Shuffle”.  They only use this when men are waiting for them thus the age-old annoyance dance continues.  If he would have told her, I’ll give you a ride to Target, things would have moved at a much brisker pace.  So after burning a half tank of gas waiting, Jo-Ann saunters into the passenger seat. 

Think of the term “Mother”.  Now inherently this means many things.  I will list several below suggested by men.

1.      Mothering

2.      Helicopter Mom

3.      Suckling Enabler

4.      Bubble wrapper

During their first ride together all of these things will come into play.  However, before he can even put the car in drive, he has to pass the Mother test. It goes like this.

1.      Did you brush your teeth?

2.      Do you have clean underwear on?

3.      Is your homework done?

4.      Did you eat?

5.      Are your shoes tied?

6.      Did you comb your hair?

7.      Did you take a shower?

8.      Did you know that Mr. Smith cheated on Mrs. Smith?

If he answers seven out of eight to her satisfaction they will be on their way.  He actually aces the test so they move out.  As I see them exit the garage, I mention to my youngest son, MoneySuck 2, I hope you said goodbye to your Mother.  Then I scurry up to my home office, call my life insurance guy and double down on her life policy payout.  Man, I hope this goes well....for me.

Not ten seconds after getting off the phone with my insurance guy they are already pulling back into the garage.  MoneySuck 1 comes into the house with the most frustrated look I’ve ever seen on his face since the internet went down last.  I give him a sympathetic look and tell him; get used to it and suck it up, soldier.  Welcome to my world.  Even though he does, he did not have to tell me what happened.  I’ve been married to Jo-Ann for almost eighteen years, I think.  Been there, done that.  According to MoneySuck 1, here’s a list of declarative statements that were shouted at him and not necessarily in this order.

1.      Make sure your car seat is installed properly.

2.      Make sure your mirrors are adjusted.

3.      Sit up straight.

4.      Slow down.

5.      Watch out for that car.

6.      Look out for that bicyclist, oh never mind it’s a bicyclist.

7.      I told you to slow down.

8.      You have to stop completely.

9.      Use your side mirrors.

10.    Hit the break.

11.    You will never amount to anything if you don’t listen to me.

12.    Slow down.

13.    Pay attention.

14.    Get off your phone.

15.    No Pokémon Go while you drive.

16.   Turn the car around, were going home.

Based on this list, I have no reason to doubt MoneySuck 1’s story including that all these statements by Jo-Ann were made at the pace of a machine gun on full auto. I knew doubling down on the life policy was a big risk and just like in Vegas, I lost the bet.  Oh well, better to have tried and lost than not have lost at all or something like that.

Fortunately, we have very strict gun laws, so this did not happen to MoneySuck 1.

After the carnage of the Mother-Son drive, I come to find out that my son is now refusing to drive with his Mom and that he only wants to drive with me since I don’t bother him while he drives. He does not know that I don’t bother him because I hold my breath. I’m now suffering the collateral damage of her military operation. Turns out Jo-Ann is wise beyond her years, well played my love.  As the victim of this shrewd move, I am now stuck in this dangerous position and I don't like it one bit.  Frankly, the only position I like is doggy.  I concede that I’m now on point for the rest of his student driver time.  However, I will have some respite because there is not a chance in hell I’m heading out with him until we use up our twelve hours behind-the-wheel individualized 1-on-1 training with the instructor, Abadebadabado. As I doze off on the couch, I swear I hear my wife on the phone with our insurance agent.

Money Suck 1 Turns 15. Part VI – Quality time with his driving instructor

Turns out MoneySuck 1’s instructor, Abadebadabado, does not live far from us so he volunteers to pick him up for his behind the wheel instruction adventure.  I don’t know much about Abadebadabado but I do know one thing, he’s a brave man.  As Day 1 of his instruction approaches, Jo-Ann goes through all her safety precautions that he needs to know leading up to this moment.  She is also one hellofa crafter, so she made up a nice driving jumpsuit for him.  I surmise, right soon, Abadebadabado will be thinking “I wish she would have made one for me”.

I go out to meet, Abadebadabado, for what I believe will be the first and last time, just out of courtesy for the man and respect for his family.  He seems like a nice guy, maybe a bit trusting or naïve but nice none the less.  He insists we call him by his nickname, which makes since due to the length of his name, so Racer X it is.  He even has his own driver jumpsuit albeit without the bubble wrap. 

He greets MoneySuck 1 and before they even get in the car he performs a walk around (not to be confused with a reach around) his car for him to get familiar with his coffin selection.  He tells him to get in the car and proceeds to stand in his mirror blind spots so he knows just when to make a lane change.  While doing this, Racer X almost gets hit by a car.  I’m not sure if this was a preemptive move to put himself out of his misery or not but he survives the blind spot test.  Racer X is a man of steel will, he did not even flinch when the car almost hit him.  He’s unflappable, he can’t be flapped!  This can’t be his first go around driving with Youngblood’s and dealing with their inexperience and consequential bad driving decisions.  I’m not sure if it’s possible but I would like to take a short term life policy out on Racer X. If not, then someone should develop a financial instrument where we can bet on the potential impending death of people we know who are most likely to die from poor decisions, drunkenness, short tempers, drug use, road rage, adventure sports, obesity, talking back to their spouses, etc.  We all know the types and have said; that sucker won’t live past 20, maybe 30 and definitely not 40 years old. So this is how it will go with the financial instrument.  You win money if they die during a specified period of time.  If not, you lose and so most likely does society since who needs these types anyway.  Sorry, I digressed.

The next big moment comes when Racer X jumps into the passenger seat and prepares him for the ride.  A ride I’m sure that Great America wishes it could implement into their parks.  This is when I decide to clear out since who knows what can happen next and getting run over by the little shit on his first attempt is not going to happen.  I’m sure he has planned on running me over the first shot he could for all the “parenting” I’ve done to him in the last fifteen years.  I mean, what a perfect time to take out his old man with the built in excuse every geriatric use when they drive through a 7-Eleven; I accidently hit the gas instead of the brake, I got confused. No chance Dude, I’m gone.  However, as I exit the danger zone I could not help but notice Racer X’s driving school car.  Should I be concerned?

Maybe, but I don’t give a crap anymore and frankly I’m starting to like Racer X’s style the more I get to know him...for what I’m sure will be a short time.

Off they go, look out world.  Should there not be some kind of GPS App. that warns us of these student drivers and their location so we can avoid them?  My idea, go ahead and steal it but I get 10%.  I’m going to huddle in my basement like an F5 tornado is heading my way but the rest of the unsuspecting public is now at great risk.  

Money Suck 1 Turns 15. Part VII – Will I see Racer X or MoneySuck 1 ever again?

Well if you ever doubted modern miracles, doubt no more.  Heeee’s back and so is Racer X, alive and seemingly well.  MoneySuck 1 jumps out of the car and skips right up to our front porch where I was awaiting his non-arrival, happy as a pig in shit.  Speaking of pigs, after Racer X pulled away, without even a wave, I saw him discard something from his car.  I did not know the class included how to pollute by throwing anything you don’t want out the window. A technique that should only be taught by experts from the former Eastern European Soviet Run nations.  I investigated further to find this on the curb. After driving with MoneySuck 1, I really could not blame him.

I’m not sure who was responsible for this discarded item but I know I did not pay extra for diaper changing service so I assume Racer X crapped himself and left it by the curb.  Most likely not the first time since he took the precaution of wearing one.  Good job son, you gave him the runs for his money or more accurately, my money.

So here we go again with his informative recap of his 1st time on the road with Racer X.  I ask several questions. Did you run anyone over?  I don’t think so.  Did you blow any stop signs or red lights?  I don’t think so.  Did you use your directional signals?  I don’t think so.  Did you cut anyone off?  I don’t think so.  Ok, I’m about to cut off this line of questions and his balls but not until I get a decent answer.  Were you nervous?  Not as much as Racer X!  What makes you think that?  He crapped his pants!  Alright then, questions are done for today.  I tell MoneySuck 1 to get in the house with the instructions to not tell his mother any more information than; it went smooth and Racer X complemented you on getting him to shit his pants first time out.

That’s it for his first time out.  Fairly uneventful with no known lives taken, not even a bicyclist.  A complete failure in my eyes since my life policy on Racer X came up snake eyes…for now.

MoneySuck 1 Turns 15, Part VIII - Money Suck 1 and Racer X run the gauntlet of other shitty drivers and “innocent” pedestrians

Much to my surprise, Racer X showed up for another go with MoneySuck 1.  His lack of common sense on all levels continues to astound me.  Undaunted by his previous driving adventures, MoneySuck 1 hops right back into the driver’s seat and takes right off.  He’ll be back soon because the idiot did not realize that Racer X had not gotten into the car yet.  Racer X better not lollygag around on his way to the car anymore or his teaching days are going to be over.  Twenty minutes later that MoneySuck 1 showed back up.  He claims he noticed within five minutes that Racer X was not in the car and that it took him that long because he could not find his way back. He inherited his Mother’s trait so it was only by sheer blunder that he found his way back at all.  Racer X jumps in with him and MoneySuck 1 peels out like the start of the twenty-four hours of LeMans.  This time Racer X is sure to get killed so I double down again on that Life Policy bet and wait for them not to make it back.

Son of a buck!  An hour out this time and they made it back, I crapped out again on the life policy.  Something is drastically wrong since all I do is spend five minutes on the road and my car is dinged up by at least one driver and one rule breaking or not braking bicyclist.  Racer X kicked MoneySuck 1 out of the car, yells something at him in that I assume is Arabic and races away.  I found out later that it was not Arabic but proper English.  Turns out it was spoken through his fat lip and broken teeth which hit the windshield when MoneySuck 1 got too aggressive on the brakes.  I guess that explains Racer X look of rage as he drove away.  I hope he gets over it since I have time left on the “You’re driving meter”. 

I know I won’t get straight if any answers out of MoneySuck 1 but I decide to ask him anyway how the drive went this time around.  To my disbelief he actually goes into detail about his most recent driving adventure with Racer X.  Awesome, I think I’m having a breakthrough with him on the communications front.

He explained to me he was on quite a roll improving his driving skills.  We live on a very narrow, busy street and right off the bat he took out seventeen car side mirrors in a row.  According to Racer X, that’s a new world record so with the thrill of a new world record notched on his belt, MoneySuck 1’s bravado only increased and so did the carnage.  He mentioned an incident with some slow poke pedestrians walking through the crosswalk at a stop sign intersection.  When they saw him come to a stop waiting for them to clear the crosswalk, they actually slowed down but acted like they were picking up the pace with the fake run move.  You know the move; you probably used it yourself a few times.  They start picking up their legs like they are high hurdling and swinging their arms wildly but are actually not moving at all.  So in my son’s mind, it was his civic duty to teach them the considerate way of crossing a street, therefore, he hit the gas with his best jackrabbit start and sent them scurrying across the street at a normal pace.  After all, he thought, even putting the lesson aside, they were all obese and needed the exercise.  He’s a true Humanitarian just like his old man.  Two for two was not good enough for this overachieving little person since he continues on his way at breakneck speed looking for the next opportunity.  It did not take long to find it with something called a bike messenger. You’ve seen them, they recklessly weave in and out of traffic breaking every rule of the road known to man and if you almost hit them they look at you with an indignant stare of disdain.  I’m sure they are saying to themselves, “I’m green and you’re not in your gas guzzling Range Rover so go F_ _ _ yourself.”  Well, that attitude is nice and all but I have a message for them.  When my son or anyone else is behind the wheel of a 4000-pound vehicle traveling at 30 miles an hour, your politically incorrect opinion is not going to matter when you’re splattered on the asphalt.  With messenger boy in sight, what does my son do??  He hit the helmetless, long-haired, ragged clothed idiot and sent him flying forty-five feet into a pole. Yes, another world record according to Racer X.  MoneySuch 1 does not stop to see if he’s OK since he deserved it and it’s not his problem this moron was playing chicken with 4000 pounds of rolling steel.  Now don’t think that MoneySuck 1 is without a conscience because in his forethought he bought a little gift for this anticipated event.  As he drove by to confirm his kill, he threw a can of white paint by his bike for the soon to be memorial.  Very, very caring on his part.  Hopefully, all your kids are as considerate as mine.

And so it went until my allotment of Racer X driver time ran out.  Now it’s my turn to be the poor sap in the passenger seat with MoneySuck 1 all due to my wife’s shrew early moves in this game of chess.  I’m ready, but the chess game is not over and I have a few moves left for old wifey poo. 

To be continued....

 

 

BobJokeTooMuch

It’s All About Me, Me, Me, Me, Me.  Who the heck is the Bob behind BobJokeTooMuch.com....edy and do you really want to know?  Anyway………

My name is Bob and I’ve been told I joke too much.  The naming of my website came from my trip to Nepal when after the first couple of days trekking to the Mt. Everest Base Camp our Sherpa Guide, Limbu, confided in my friend the following; “Bob is a nice guy but Bob Joke Too Much”.  Once he started to understand and/or tolerate my sarcasm (maybe 21 days in) we became good friends and supporters of his guide business.  So it all worked out but now my friend tends to remind me of that quote when I go too far with my satirical humor.

Anyway......I was born a poor black child of a sharecropper on the front porch of my home in the Mississippi Delta.  Not buying that?  OK, just a middle class, blue collar kid in an all-white, Irish Catholic neighborhood boarding the Southwest side of Chicago.  One of seven children raised by a normal Mom and Dad who obviously believed the Catholic Church recommendation of the Rhythm Method as an effective form of contraception.  My Wife, two boys and I live in Chicago.

Observing and experiencing life since 1963.  I have been extensively educated at Father Mulsoff Industrial School for Incorrigible Kid’s, Brother Duffin High School for Vulnerable Boys and The Institute for Applied Nonsense.  Note that even though the 1st two schools had known molesters as “teachers”, I was never once approached for molestation in spite of the fact that I was very susceptible, small, skinny and weak boy.  Due to current litigation against the Catholic Church for discrimination, that’s all I can say on the subject.

I have no qualifications for being a writer.  However, this will not stop me from publishing many of the yearly 17,000 thoughts that pop into my mind on the www.bobjoketoomuch.com website and anywhere else. I will cover topics including parenting, gun control, donkeys, idiots, politics, religion, racism and any other controversial subjects I find worthy in an attempt of provoking laughs, stimulating deep thinking and/or just pissing off the politically correct with my satirical prose.  My thoughts and opinions will appear on my website and all other social media outlets no matter how much a waste of time until I die.