She got a 96 out of 100, the highest score ever given by this particular DPS officer.
Here’s the kicker: she did it in a lifted 1999 Chevy Suburban 4×4 383 stroker that reaks of oil, WD-40 and the musky stench of Cajun Navy (TEXAS Divison).
Do the math people, that’s a classic vehicle and it’s an absolute unit. It’s also the only street legal vehicle in my fleet.
Her parallel parking is so perfect, it instantly became a thing of legend. The other kids literally just abandoned their Subarus and Hondas in tears. They couldn’t bare the witness of such power and grace.
I take all the credit. All those years of valet parking cars for boujee Dallasites finally paid off. SUCK IT MISTERS NEIMAN AND MARCUS!
Like any normal father, I taught her to drive a stick shift when she turned 12. She was there when that snowstorm slammed us on that lonely drive between Detroit and Toronto. She was there when we burned donuts at the grave of Billy the Kid on the way to bury mom out in New Mexico. She was there when we drove deep into Utah’s offroad trails at Canyonlands National Park. She was there every time I’ve been pulled over for speeding, rolling red lights and driving on medians.
Mary understands ticket-avoidance because every red-blooded American cop knows there is a proper time and place for tomfoolery. It’s NUANCE people!
Our biggest fear was that damn passenger door. You have to know how to wiggle the handle just right, otherwise you’re trapped. Normally we’d explain this exit to a new rider lest they die in a fiery death.
However, we couldn’t risk vehicular failure, it only passed inspection when I slipped my mechanic a two-fer coupon so he could take his lady out to the Chili’s for a skillet queso and some frosty margs. No fear, I coached Mary well. When the officer couldn’t open the door, Mary said, “It sticks when it’s humid, let me do it.” The officer was so giddy of the sight she just witnessed, zero Fs were given.