WHO DRIVES

WHO DRIVES

Cranky Claus (pronounced claws) hadn’t driven a car for the entire eighty-five years of his life and he damn-well wasn’t going to start now. Only thing he ever drove was the old John Deere with which he had plowed the north forty for the past sixty-five years. “That land produced a cash crop of corn every year and I’m proud of it! Ain’t nobody getting me behind the wheel of any consarn’, new-fangled drivin’ machines! No way! No how!”

His wife, Gertie, had been doing all the driving for all the years they were married. Their 1965 Hudson was on its last legs anyway, eating oil, belching smoke. Gertie was getting tired of driving and her eyesight was none too good anyway. “Claus, you old phart, I need you to start doing the drivin’. It’s too much for me. Can’t do it any longer!”

She showed him an article in the local newspaper that highlighted an AAA course that gave 20% discount to seniors for any course. After days of wrangling, Claus gave in. “What the hell’s an AAA driving course? Tractor, car, no difference: don’t never forget no drivin’. It’ll come back to me real easy. I don’t need it, but I’ll take it just to shut your up. Can see as good as I ever did and my reflexes have never been better!”

Claus enrolled in the driving course – “Jest to freshen my memory.”  It was a total disaster! He had no memory! He hightailed out of there before the first day was over.

Gertie was of course irate. “Can’t you do one galdarn thing, right?” “Listen, you old bag, this here jest ain’t the Americun way. It’s a way of stompin’ on my civil rights. I ain’t agonna do anythin’ like this agin!”

“You rotten hick, what are we gonna do? We need a car to live!”

“I ain’t buyin’ no car.

Neither could drive.

They called Uber.

End of story.