Extreme Driving Adventures- Testosterone Behind the Wheel

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Let’s face it… teenage boys behind the wheel of any vehicle that isn’t

a self propelled red and yellow plastic Fred Flintstone car is frightening shit.

 

Teaching my, now licensed 17 year old to drive last year was an experience that had my already-questionable-sanity hanging by the fiber of a frayed thread… which continues to weaken every. single. time. I hand him the keys.

 

No doubt, those smelly green Christmas tree air fresheners should be available in xanax scent- exclusively for parents and/or mental patients.

 

The air freshener people would make a killing.

 

It seems like a no brainer, yet to this day I’ve been unable to locate a single anti-anxiety scented air freshener for sale on ALL of the inter webs.

 

Go figure.

 

The following driving tales were scribbled in holy water written while I was up to my eyeballs in adventure last year, teaching Big Kahunas to drive.

 

Big Kahunas nickname is explained somewhere in the smoking wreckage.

 

Fasten your seatbelt and read on…

 

Dumb Shit my Son Says…

Big Kahunas

Cruising in the Jesus-mobile

Testosterone Powered Jackass

 

 

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Dammit Wonderwoman, You’re Late Again

This mornings chaos kind of cancelled itself out.

I love when that happens.

Bittersweet beginnings.

Bad news – Diva #13 missed the bus because I lost her track uniform, which was actually in the bottom of HER closet and took me under 60 seconds to find.

Note to self- stop hiding her shit.

Good news – It was the first time EVER, we were early enough to join the drop-off parade where you get to be part of the curvy  long line of parents delivering their chicks to school.

Awesome.

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My favorite part is where you get to wave and shout out the window to the other ugly parents.

The expression on Diva’s face was priceless and worth every  ounce of overpriced gas.

Also, and just in case God is listening, I’d like extra credit for not running down the Vice Principal who was in charge of the parade.

At least I think he was, except he didn’t have a baton or fancy hat.

I had a perfect shot too.

He and I have a complicated love ♥ affair on account of him suspending my son (Big Kahuna’s #16) for breathing wrong… or possibly something more serious like… showing up for finals wearing Shannon’s pink bra.

Don’t get me wrong, I can totally understand how this sort of tomfoolery can be very distracting to the other students, but it doesn’t mean the perp should be marked with a SUSPEND ME bullseye for the rest of junior high.

Or maybe it does.

It did, and it became another thorn in my side.

More Fun Facts-

The school has the right to invite you back to detention during summer vacation if you pull any shenanigans the last week of classes.

You should probably LEARN from this and not do it two three years in a row.

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Now that it’s time to wrap up this post, I’m at a loss because it escaped in so many directions.

That happens to me a lot.

Look a squirrel!

Closing FUN fact- the track uniform (that I lost) is a teeny little number- blue shorts and a red tank.

When the girls are all clumped together on the field they look like a herd of mini- Wonder Women.

It’s pretty awesome.

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See??

 

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Have a WONDERFUL day.

Hang on to your Butt- Teen Driver!!

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Dear People who make cars,

I have a very brilliant idea I’d like to submit for your approval.

You are welcome ahead of time.

It’s called…

The Taser Gas Pedal and it’s likely to be unanimously coveted by parents and insurance companies everywhere.

 If you haven’t already figured out the obvious, the gas pedal tasers the 16 year old boy or whomever may be drivings foot when he exceeds the speed limit.

I added “or whomever may be driving” to the above because some 50 year old men are still little boys in race cars.

Zroom zroom!

Damn right I said HE.

No mistake there.

An evil clown will also pop out of the visor and smack the overconfident driver upside-the-head if when he doesn’t come to a complete stop at a stop sign… or for pretty much any reason at all.

 

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There are many more innovative ideas where these gems came from.

I’m headed over to my LinkedIn profile right now to add…

Connoisseur of Creative Ideas that are Awesome.

 

Big Kahunas goes Driving

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From this day forward my 16 y/o son shall be referred to as… Big Kahunas #16.

*As defined by Urban Dictionary, NOT to be mistaken with a cool Hawaiian spiritual guy.

Although, should you mistaken it with Kahuna, as in the Australian slang word for penis, you might be are on the right track.

Honestly, I didn’t wake up this morning thinking… Today would be a great day to make up a fun new name for my youngest boy, also known as #16.

Nope. #16 has his drivers permit and we went DRIVING.

THAT’S what happened.

*Over the speed limit.

* Not coming to a complete stop.

*Failure to use directional.

*Not looking before changing lanes.

ALL within a short ride around the block.

The Block from HELL. 

“But Moommm!!… you do it all the time!”

I think this is where, “Do as I SAY, not as I DO” comes into play.

My default response being, “When you’ve been driving for 30ish years, have something like a gazillion street hours under your belt and still haven’t killed anyone or lost your driving privileges AND, you pay your own car insurance, THEN and only THEN, will you have the RIGHT to drive like an asshole. An EXPERIENCED asshole.

It takes Big Kahunas, ladies and gentlemen.

Testosterone is a dangerous muthersucker.

The Christmas tree air freshener people should really consider making  little XANAX scented  palm trees for moms teaching their sons to drive. 

There would be a pre-filled flask in the tree trunk, but that…  goes without saying.

 

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