UYD for Life

Jonathan cannot drive a stick shift. 

Can someone take that dude to an empty parking lot and teach him? Like maybe my Daddy? He taught me and I’m like the worst driver in the world. C’mon Jah, it’s super not-that-hard.

(Erm, okay, I just pictured my slow talkin’, Alabama farm raised, Southern Baptist Dad—think Hank Hill if Hank was sweeter and talked about Jeezo instead of propane—in a car with a frustrated and confused JahJah, who is probably high on millies and Marcia Romatellis. 

Right, then. Maybe Caitlin’s pot-sock wearing, psychedelic-sixties band Dad would be a better match. Let’s hope he drives a standard and is a patient teacher. And doesn’t mind some colorful language. And maybe, just maybe, having his car window spat on. NO BIG DEAL.)

[My pops was supposed to teach me how to drive stick until he traded in his dope ass BMW Z3 for a fucking mini-van. Hey thanks, dad. Do you know how fucking cool I looked when I got picked up in a black beemer convertible after rehearsal as the lead in “Cinderella” (ella ella ella eh eh eh)? And now, just like Jah, I too can’t drive stick. -Caitlin]