Extreme Driving Adventures- Testosterone Behind the Wheel


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





Big Kahuna’s is 17!!!


Me (to #16) – Where did you go?

< Elapsed time 12 minutes, current temperature 22 F. >

#16- I went for a walk.

Me- In other words, you took up smoking.

#16- Did not. Smell my hands.

He already KNOWS the routine.

If I detect an over abundance of cologne, sudden affinity for minty gum, new air freshener, windows rolled down in my car… I’m suspicious.

I’ve been randomly interrogating him since he was around 12.

My eldest two never did it, but THIS one’s my wild child.

I use advanced methods like smelling his fingers, nose, hair and clothing.

I wasn’t born yesterday.

Also, I used to sneak cigarettes myself… from my husband, so I’m experienced.

Anyway, he was clean which is good because he’s already doing time for something else.

The something else didn’t make the inter webs because it was a doozy. Don’t even bother asking.

If you read my blog, you know I refer to #16 as Big Kahunna’s and Jackass #16. Since today is his 17th birthday, he’ll now be known as #17.

He’s my wild child… my mini-me with testosterone.


To celebrate his big day I shall post a few links to his misadventures from the past year.

Big Kahuna’s Goes Driving

Make Way for the Jackass Mobile

Testosterone Behind the Wheel


Happy Birthday #17!!!

Make Way for the Jackass-mobile


My 16 y/o son- Big Kahuna’s #16  is less than a month away from taking his driving test.

Name origin explained HERE–> Big Kahunas


A light bulb *burst* over my head this morning while I was pondering this upcoming event and the realization that soon he’ll be unleashed into society… on wheels.

*Making sign of the cross*


Fun Fact- Blood flow initially intended to nourish the brain is diverted due SOUTH in the teen years and probably into the early twenties.

The obvious problem here is… the penis can’t see over the dashboard.

We’ll call these the jack-ass years and refer to the inexperienced boy driver as the JA.

What to do?

We have blind JA drivers amongst us.

The clear solution is to somehow “mark” them for easy identification by the rest of society and/or possibly wrap their vehicles in bubble wrap.

However, I came up with something a little more FUN for the rest of us.

For the first five years that the JA has his drivers license (I chose the five year plan to adequately cover late-blooming rookie penis’s starting out at age 18 and 19. I know… good thinking) the boy shall be mandated to mount a giant jackass head in the likeness of donkey from Shrek on the roof of their vehicle.


The head would be portable and easily detachable in the event the driver changes vehicles.

The jack-ass mascot will make loud  HEEEEEE-HAWWW donkey noises when the vehicle exceeds the speed limit and at any other time the boy does something stupid like text, run a red light or simply divert his attention elsewhere.

Also, the talking head would scold the boy in Eddie Murphy’s voice.

I’m not gonna lie… THIS is my favorite part.

“Whatcha doing, man?? You think this is Indy 500… slow yer shit down, you almost took out that old lady and her ugly mutant dog. You ain’t getting no bonus Indy points for that reckless shit. Stop the vehicle right now- Donkey’s taking the wheel. You a dangerous muther sucker.”

Quite frankly, I’m hesitant to publish this post without patenting it first because it would make an ass-kicking movie script.

Pun intended.

Move over Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Insurance company’s, parents and motorists everywhere are going to LOVE this idea.

Hold your applause while we vote.

All in favor…

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