Chapter Whatever in the Annals of Boneheaded Driving

So after a long weekend of visiting family in Ohio, we set out this morning along the back roads linking small towns before we reluctantly committed ourselves to the numbing routine that driving Eisenhower’s interstate system has become.

Glum with ennui, we persevered through sheets of rain obscuring our progress from the Keystone state into Wild and Wonderful West Virginia. Suffused with an imagined sense of zen-like mastery as we motored ever eastward, I took on the task of nudging sociopathic left lane dawdlers into learning the error of their ways.

Part of my non-AAA-approved technique is to swing into the right lane to pass the miscreant and then drift back into the left lane (w/o signaling of course) to conclusively demonstrate (pretty much always) his dumbassery.

Well, this time something else happened.

As I was schooling this fool, passing him on the right and getting in front of him in the left lane, I noticed this odd little after-market searchlight on the left side of his car. Being all in and with nowhere to hide, all I could do was watch in the rear view as the lights came on.

Now some of you if you knew you were driving on an expired license might have elected a different driving strategy than the one I was confidently beavering away on. I am not like you; I am that (other) guy.

Even though my license has expired (thank you for nothing DC DMV for not sending a renewal notice), an earlier “passing acquaintance” with a Joe Friday officer of the Arlington PD had alerted me to the facts of the situation and I had proof of my renewal with me though I did not actually have the new valid license itself.

So when the Chris Farley-looking copper came up to the car, I had the entire package for him – (expired) license, registration and note from the teacher explaining that yes I kind of sort of really had a valid driver’s license.

He was a bit mystified but took in the whole situation – heading-down-the-other-side-of-middle-age white guy driving a station wagon with the wife and the dog – and admonished me about my idiotic driving in cutting back in front of him well in advance of the speed limit and leaving him no choice but to assert his lawman’s prerogative.

Happily for domestic tranquility, our Agent Unknown was not a state trooper but was on fugitive patrol looking for actual criminals who were evading the law. His self-respect as a peace officer led him to pull me over, but he had no interest in doing the paperwork and writing me a ticket.

White male privilege saved my ass, and suitably chastened, I drove mildly on home. Lesson learned???


  1. so are the luckiest crap dangerous driver that I know and so it goes ….forever I guess

  2. you are the luckiest crap dangerous driver that I know and so it goes ….forever I guess

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About Me

Born in Baltimore and raised in Cincinnati, I have lived on both coasts and driven back and forth across the country a number of times. I now have the "midlife opportunity" to do so on two wheels.