THE 
MIKE 
DURRETT
SHOW 

Today's Episode:
Shifting Gears

Dateline: 04/20/98

Hi, and welcome to the show.

I'm happy to announce I drove myself to the program today and won't need to ask you to give me a lift home. I renewed my driver's license.

Golly, what a treat!. I live in the largest metropolitan area in the southeast; yet, whenever it comes time to update my laminated pocket passport to the highways, byways, and driveways of this gridlocked community, I'm happy to jump into my car and cruise-control over to the Department of Motor Vehicles with a double-wide grin on my face and expired license clenched in my teeth. It's all I can do to keep from poking my head out the window and letting my tongue flutter in the breeze.

I adore dealing with the government on each and every level. Bureaucracy is a sweet elixir. I drink a frothy toast to the stout-hearted boys and girls in the public service. Bless you. May I be a part of your lives? May I share memories in your company? May I please not buy my clothes where you shop?

"Next," beckoned the DMV's state patrolman, wearing the heinous brown uniform.

My three hour and twelve minute wait for the driver's testees in front of me to be browned and served had concluded. I approached the officer's counter.

"Eye test," he said.

"You look like a Baby Ruth with pocket flaps."

The puzzled examiner stared at me for a moment. "You chickened out, didn't you, sir?" he said.

"Yep."

"Well, thanks for cleaning up your line. You're right; these uniforms, they do scream for accessories."

"It really would've been killer funny, you know?

"Sure, sir. But I suspect you're trying to keep things mainstream, right?" he asked.

"Uh huh."

"Now, if you were over at Sick/Twisted Jokes, you could've gotten away with that line, I suspect.
 
"That's right," I said. "The price I pay to remain non-offensive."

"I thought the new gag worked pretty well," he reasoned. "I'd say you got 60% of your laughs on it. 'Baby Ruth' is three syllables long where your original four-letter noun was only one -- so, rhythm-wise you took a loss there.

"I know. Had to."

"Win some, lose some, right, sir?"

"I guess."

"Okay, sir. Good luck to you in the rest of the piece."

"Thank you, Officer," I said sincerely.

"So, should we rejoin the original text after you respond to this question I'm currently phrasing?" he guided.

"Depends. Can you get back into your wacky character?"

"It's the original text, sir," he explained. "I'm already in my wacky character because you typed that part into an earlier draft."

"Yeah, that's right. I forgot."

"Well then, shall we, sir?" he asked.

"Sure, resume now."

"Umm, not yet sir!" he interjected. "Might I suggest we reestablish your premise? We've had this intervening conversation -- which, by the way, is now longer than the piece -- and the folks might not recall the original situation."

"You are absolutely correct State Patrolman," I said. "You should have written this thing."

"No, no, no, not me, sir," he said. "I'm just the hired help. The wacky character at the counter at the Department of Motor Vehicles at the time you walked up to renew your driver's license at the point I announced your eye test."

"Very succinct."

"Thank you, sir," he said proudly. "Resume the original text now?"

"Yes, please, resume now."

Resume Speed

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he queried, placing his hands on my face over my eyes.

"Uh, ten?" I responded, confused.
 
"Peep Eye!" he squealed, retrieving his hands back to his side of the counter. "You are a bright one! That's correct, ten."

I looked around the room. I was the final applicant of the day. We were alone.

"Ooo, have you seen this one?" he cooed, magically weaving his fingers. "Here's the church, and here's the steeple--"

"Great, Officer, that's a good--"

"Open the door and -- oh, look, it's my wedding day!" he beamed.  "Do you like wicker?"

"Uh, sir, my wife," I explained, "the paralegal, who works for a law firm that bonuses her with tons of free courtroom representation, is expecting me and--"

"You're an atheist, aren't you? You won't come to my church," he pouted. "I guess I could convert."

"No, I'm not an atheist. I'm just in a big hurry."

"Men!" he muttered. "All right, let's make your picture."

"Fine," I said, stepping in front of the camera, toeing the line. "How's this?"

"Actually, I see you in something off-the-shoulder, lilac print--"

"CHEESE!" I shouted!

He snapped, "Okay!" And then he snapped my picture. "I'll take a set of wallets."

"Are we done?" I asked.

"Would you like to be an organ donor?"

The room not only got quiet, but I also heard a cricket gasp.

"Okay, Officer," I said. "Just stop. This is not working. I just reread the whole piece and the tone is not right any more. Your wacky character doesn't work like it did originally."

"I could feel it, too, sir," the officer said.

"I should've just said 'turd' and been done with it."

"Too late for that, sir. They can't all be gems -- but don't tell The Mining Co. that, sir!"

"I won't," I said.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! That was a good one, huh, sir?" he wondered. "Gems? Mining?"

"Yes, very good," I said. "How much do I owe you?"

"That'll be 15 dollars for your license."

"Okay."

"And 175 for the violation."

"What?" I cried.

"Illegal 'turd' in the mainstream."

"Oh, crap."

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

"350," we said.

---

Additional Amusements:
Database of Unsafe Driving
Examination for Florida's Driver's License
Fun Things to Do When Driving
How to Drive Like a Moron
New York City Cabbie Pet Peeves

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About Your Guide: Mike Durrett sets his cruise control to a strict 55 miles per hour, which keeps everyone alert at the DQ drive-thru window.
 
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