She already knew how to drive and these daily outing was an opportunity for her to practice for her driving test. One day I picked her up at work. Our six-foot friend Andy came along. She jumped behinds the wheel.
“Where are we going today?”
“We’re going home by road you never have been on.”
We would usually drive the length of Flamingo Boulevard to go home. As she crested the I15 overpass I said, “Hang a left”. She was doing good until we came closer to our exit and had to merge left. A cement truck driver was fucking with her. He was checking out the Babe in the tank top and shorts so when she speeded up to pass, he’d speed up. She’d slow down to slip behind and he’d slow down.
At this point you have to know that Melissa would do exactly what you said.
She kept trying to slip behind him. Every time she tried, he’d hit the brakes and make her swerve right back into the right lane. She hit the brakes and try again. On about the third or fourth attempt Nevada High Patrol came up behind us with lights and sirens. I thought he was going to pass us, so I yelled, ” GO RIGHT! RIGHT! RIGHT!
That’s exactly what she did. Right into the middle lane, right into the right lane and… …. right into the should at 70mph. Highway Patrol was on her ass the whole way.
I yelled, “STOP!”, and she did. 70mph to zero.
[TRIVIAL PURUIT] The big highway lights have a clamp at their base and the clamp is held by a four-inch nut and bolt.
I was staring at this big assed nut when I snapped into “ejection position” and pissed my pants. We were going to hit this light post and it would be GAME OVER. Needless to say, she stopped the car before we hit.
The Trooper came up to the window and looked at her learner’s permit. “Who’s the licensed driver in there?” I raised my hand.
He pointed to her skid marks, bubbling in the hot desert sun and said, “You see this shit?” I pointing to my uncontrollably, shaking hand and said, “No shit, do you see this. Obviously she’s not driving home today.”
“Why do you have her out on the highway?”
“Where else is she going to learn?”
“Good point. Go home, safely.”
She pass her driving test with flying colors. We went to lunch and she was driving down Carey pass the DMV we had just left. As we waited at the light, I saw that there had been a wreck right in front of the DMV.
I said, “Somebody REALLY failed their driving test.”
There were three Metro squad cars, the fire department, the coroner and a Metro motorcycle cop in front directing traffic with one hand and sipping a 7-11 Big Gulp in the other. I wish I took that picture. I big ass land yacht was spun out on the left and a little car spun out to the right. It had a severed arm laying on the hood.
“DON’T LOOK RIGHT!” She does of course and sees the arm. She screamed and floored the gas. With rubber burning she left the scene at 70mph. Metro didn’t even say, “Hey?”
We got a shiny new Toyota Corolla for her. When we went home I took the freeway to get home first and she took the side streets. When I got home she was in the drive way. “How fast were you driving?” “I dunno, but I was passing a lot of slow assed cars.”
During the Summer she worked at the School kitchens getting them deep cleaned and ready for the school year. She was coming home when Metro pulled her over for speeding. He looked at her license and said, “Did you just get this?”
“Yes sir, just this Summer.”
“Where were you coming from?”
“Where are you going?”
“Well, you know young lady, driving is a privilege.”
When I got home, I was met with my slippers, a lit cigarette and the History Channel on the TV. My favorite dinner was on the stove. “What gives?”, I asked. She told me about being stopped and thought that since the car was registered in my name, the cops would call me.
“No, that doesn’t happen. You got off with a warning because the cop thought you were 16.”