I kid you not, my boy The Dishwasher is one lucky bastard. I need to keep dude around, if only to tap into his lucky streak. When he's not washing dishes he's doing things that could be potentially disastrous to anyone else, but perfectly everyday for him.
Picture this: he & I & some other cat went out Saturday night. I'd been messing with my car stereo all day and something wasn't right; something kept shorting and blowing some fuse that would kill the right taillight. How the sound and taillight circuits are related beats me, Mitsubishi.
Anyway, it was around 11pm when we left to go out and we had a 30 minute drive before us, so The Dishwasher was really stepping on it. He'd insisted on driving my car, despite it being a magnet for highway patrol, never mind the busted taillight.
Dude was in the fast lane hovering around 85MPH, a good 30 miles over the limit, when the now-familiar spectacle of red, white and blue flashed behind us, and I don't mean the American flag. A local Durrty Lanc cruiser almost magically appeared behind us and herded the Lancer to the shoulder. I was thinking to myself like Holy sh*t, The Dishwasher's f*cked. 30 over?!
The youngish cop walked over and asked for the usual license and registration, watching our every move. We were, after all, 3 black dudes riding in a car with a busted taillight and out of state tags, so I wasn't surprised when another patrol car pulled up. Now I was sure it was gonna get real thick. So imagine my surprise when the cop came over, handed back The Dishwasher's license and my registration and was like: Do you know your right taillight is out? I admitted I'd noticed it earlier and that I'd fix it the following day. Then the cop wished us a good evening and let us leave.
I was incredulous. Yo, we'd been doing 85 on a 55! And he just let us go with a warning?! What planet were we on?! I'll be!
About 3am on the way back home, The Dishwasher pushed the Lancer up to 120MPH on the freeway. And were we stopped by five-oh? Oh no, not at all.
In the back-roads close to the crib, dude was still pushing the car hard. [It's a lot more fun than his whip, he said] No sooner had we entered the development, only about 200 yards from his house, than another local cop came out of nowhere and hit the lights. Keep in mind it was close to 4am, the hour when everyone gets back home after a hard night of partying, the worst time to be stopped, and what does the cop do? He asks for dude's license, hands it back 5 minutes later and mentions the blown taillight, after which he gets back to his cruiser and leaves.
I was speechless. WTF! Not that I'm complaining we got off that easy, but that would never happen with me; I'd have gotten 2 tickets that night. That does it - from now on The Dishwasher will be the designated driver.
On another note, I was trying to explain to dude the benefits of using synthetic oil for his car, specifically Mobil 1. I tried to explain that though Mobil 1 costs more, you can drive with it longer and it protects the engine way better.
All he could focus on was the fact that it cost more so, exasperated, I had to try and explain it in some other way, something he could relate to. I was like:
Look at it this way: it's like using Astroglide versus spittle; both ways will work but it'd be a lot better, and slicker, with the Astroglide.
And he got it.