Driving License Funny Quotes

We take the stairs down to the first level of the parking garage and I lead us toward the area reserved for doctors. She makes her way toward a black Audi, turns, and waits for me to join her. I smirk. “That’s not my car.” She nods. “Right, of course. I see it now.” She goes to a bright yellow Ferrari that belongs to one of the plastic surgeons. The vanity license plate reads: SXY DOC88. “Here we are.” “Not even close.” “Oh, okay. I get it. You aren’t flashy. Maybe that gray Range Rover over there?” I press the unlock button on my key fob and my rear lights flash. There she is, the car I’ve driven since I was in medical school. “You’re kidding. A Prius?! Satan himself drives a Prius?!” She turns around as if hoping to find someone else she can share this moment with. All she’s got is me. I shrug. “It gets good gas mileage.” She blinks exaggeratedly. “I couldn’t be more shocked if you’d hitched a horse to a buggy.” I chuckle and open the back door to toss in her backpack. “Get in. Traffic is going to be hell.” We buckle up in silence, back up and leave the parking garage in silence, pull out into traffic in silence. Finally, I ask, “Where do you live?” “On the west side. Right across from Franklin Park.” “Good. I have an errand I need to run that’s right by there. Mind if I do that before I drop you off?” “Well seeing as how you stole my backpack and forced me into your car, I don’t really think it matters what I want.” I see. She’s still pouting. That’s fine. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” She doesn’t think I’m funny.

Love is not the foundation for marriage, people normally get married to someone they think, they are in love with. Can I say to you that love does not make marriage work, don't be fooled by that funny feeling, don't get married because you love someone. I love aircraft but I can't fly them, I failed two times my pilot license, I love cars but I failed two times in the driving school made it on the third time. I love diving but not yet ready to go to diving school. You can love something and still don't know how to do it. So love is not the problem but the knowledge. I still maintain love doesn't make marriage work but knowledge and understanding. . Acquire enough knowledge before going into it.

Just take me home,” Furi mumbled and moved to the passenger side of the truck. The drive home was deathly quiet. Syn wasn’t sure if Furi was going to forgive him or not, he was certainly hoping he would. Syn really did like Furi. He was the type of man he’d want to spend hours talking to because the deep sexiness of his voice did funny things to Syn’s groin, listening to him laugh was like the sweetest music to his ears. He wanted to see Furi's gorgeous face when he came home from working a shitty case, knowing he would make it better. He wanted to get into bed with him after a hot shower and bury his face in Furi’s soft hair and just lose himself in the erotic scent that lingered in those gorgeous locks. Syn fought the urge to apologize again; he’d done it at least five times now. He looked over at Furi, wishing he would turn and look at him. “Are you going to say anything?” Furi did look at him then, but what he said wasn’t exactly what Syn wanted to hear, “Your truck needs a tune-up.” Then he turned his head back toward the window. Syn pulled up to the curb opposite Furi’s apartment and shut off the engine. Furi didn’t say anything; he just opened the door, got out of the truck and walked across the street. Syn jumped out calling to him, “Furi, please wait.” Furi stopped in the middle of the street and turned to face him, looking completely exasperated. “What?” Syn was just making his way around the truck when he heard tires screeching and bright headlights headed directly at Furi. “Furious!” Syn yelled, but he saw there was no time. He ran at full speed, leaping and slamming his body into Furi's, the car’s front end just missing them. Syn rolled with Furi, a messy tangle of long limbs, hitting the curb hard. Syn kept one arm around Furi while craning his neck to try to see where the car was. All he could see was the make of the dark vehicle and two letters of the license plate. Syn pulled his S&W from behind his back just in case they circled back around. Syn jumped up and pulled Furi up with him. “Inside, now.” Furi moved quickly, Syn right behind him. As soon as they got inside the apartment, Syn turned Furi to face him. He looked him over and determined that he was okay for the most part. Furi looked like he was in shock, and rightfully so, someone had just tried to kill him. Syn put both his hands on Furi’s flushed cheeks. “Furious look at me.” Syn waited for those now haunted eyes to look at his. When Furi finally focused on his face, he had to slip into cop mode and ask his questions while the details were fresh in his mind.

It's not as if I don't know how to handle the truck now. A license is just a piece of paper

Do you need a ride?” He said again. “No, actually.” “Come on. I’ll take you home.” I don’t need a ride. That’s my bike.” Maggie pointed to the bike at his feet. He didn’t look down at the bike, which made Maggie think he was aware all along that it was hers. “It’ll fit in my trunk.” “No, thank you. I’ll ride it home. It’s a big bike.” “It’s a big trunk.” Maggie stared at him, confused by his sudden appearance and his even more sudden interest in spending time in her company. “Why?” “It was made that way. Most of the cars made in the ‘50’s had decent sized trunks.” “Ha ha, very funny. That’s not what I meant and you know it. Why do you want to take me home?” Maggie almost smiled at his dry attempt at humor. But she didn’t. It still hurt too much to look at him, to be near him, and her smile stayed dormant. “I want to talk to you.” “I had the very distinct impression the last time we were together that I made you angry. Plus, I’m thinking your driver’s license is long expired. You shouldn’t be driving.” “Ha, ha, very funny,” Johnny mimicked her. “Have you always been such a goody-two shoes?” “Nobody says goody-two-shoes anymore!” Maggie said crossly and walked to her bike, squatting beside it to undo the lock. “Maggie,” he coaxed. “Maggie?” She really tried not to look up at him. “How do you drive a blonde crazy?” Maggie’s head shot up, and her eyes locked on his. “You put him in a round room and tell him to sit in the corner,” Johnny quipped, but his eyes were serious. “Not bad, Kinross. Did you make that up yourself?