Get off work, go home, get the wife and head to Lowe's. On the way home, there's a lady in her mid-60's, hair all done-up, nice make up, well-dressed, sitting in a beautiful caddy at one of the stoplights next to us. This is where it gets funny. She has a handicapped sign hangin' from the mirror and a suicide knob bolted to the steering wheel. Her cell phone, which she is talking on, is chained to her left hand and has a loop running from that chain to the strap for her eyeglasses so the phone can't fall. Her dress is hiked up and a quart of Baskin Robbins ice cream is open between her legs, and she's scoopin' ice cream into her mouth with a spoon in her right hand at the rate of about every other word. After takin' this in, I pull out my phone. Mrs. WYite, who's drivin', asks what I'm doin'. I say, "I'm gonna get a video, 'cuz ain't nobody gonna believe this". Then the light turns green. The lady starts off steering with her knobby knees, and Mrs. WYite hits the gas before I can get my pic. I said, "Hey.." to which Mrs. WYite replies, "Ivan Jr.!", the name she reserves for when she thinks I'm doing sometin' particularly goofy (usually she calls me by my nickname, J.R.). I look back and Miss Daisy is swervin' down the street, talkin' on the phone and shovelin' ice cream in. So I get home, start thinkin' about this, which all seems kinda unreal now, and I just had a question come to mind which really is most impertinenet to the situation...if she steers with her knees, what's the suicide knob for?
WYite
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One can never have too many fish tanks.