Once, possibly this past weekend, my friend George, Eric, and I decided to take a quick road trip to Wisconsin. George needed to head up there and pick up a part for a water heater, and it was actually cheaper to just drive there and pick it up versus having it shipped. Apparently, it's a very old water heater.
Eric and I are always up for a road trip. What can I say, we're road trip people. Give us a six pack of root beer and a bag of beef jerky, and we are down for going anywhere.
So, we all pile into George's car, and off we go. Thing with George's family is they are the do-it-yourself kind of family. I mean, my family is too, don't get me wrong. But his really is.
George, disliking the color of his car (purple-ish) decided to paint it black. So, he went to the hardware store, and picked up the cheapest paint he could find. He got some brushes, and proceeds to paint his car.
Because of the paint he used, it bubbled. So, he had a black, bubbly car.
He's driving, Eric is in the passanger seat, and I am in the backseat. I am purposely sitting in the backseat because the second George goes faster than 55 mph, I start to tell him to slow down. I am one of those annoying people - those backseat driver people. Eric's threshold is 70 mph. So, as long as he goes slower than 70, we're all good. [The posted speed limit was 65, for the record.]
We pass through a town, and promptly get pulled over. Apparently, the town's posted speed limit was 45. We were doing 67. So, we pull over.
The cop walks up to our window, asks for the usual documents, looks into the car, and walks back to the patrol car. He comes back, issues a warning. Why does he issue us a warning? Because he is cracking up as he comes back to the car.
"Son" he says, "You car has the texture of my shotgun! What the hell did you paint this with?" George explains the process of cheaply painting a car, and the cop is dying with laughter, and so am I.
The moral of this story? If you plan on speeding, remember to let George paint your car, as his horrible paint job will get you out of a ticket.
My husband just accuses me of performing favors whenever I get out of a ticket. I simply remind him that there is "no charge for awesomeness. Or attractiveness!"
ReplyDeleteAnd everyone I know jokes that one day I will get a ticket for driving like a little old lady!
ReplyDeleteAh, I say let the girls do the talking for you. Smile pretty, and apologize like hell! Works more often than not. And little old ladies do not get tickets, unless they're drunk.
ReplyDeletethats pretty funny george. if i did that along with the duct tape already covering the hole on my hood i'd be set to get out of tickets of all shapes and sizes
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