How To Qualify For Disqualified Driver Insurance

You might be a disqualified driver if:

*you tossed the airbag out the window, along with her mother.

*your current hood ornament's tie, which is flapping in the wind, matches the primer gray of your car.

*there is no left turn lane on the curb.

*the police recognize the sound of your car coming.

*you have your speeding tickets bound and sell it as an autobiography.

*the wind sheer, as you passed by, knocked a biker off his machine, and it was a motorcycle cop.

*the traffic court judge gave you your own parking slot.

*your bumper sticker says I'm Not Speeding, I'm Qualifying.

All jokes aside, however, there is definitely a serious overtone to disqualified driver insurance (get it here). All these nice people want to do is help put you back on the road. When you get out of jail. And buy a car in another state. Dressed in drag. With an ID from a county fair photo booth. They don't even have many rules or requirements, except maybe a few.

Thou Shalt Not:

*Consider traffic lights a Christmas tree before the starting gun is fired.

*Use jaywalkers as target practice.

*Pick off mailboxes shaped like pink flamingos.

*Do the Fred Flintstone - think thin, baby - thing between two cars on either side of you.

*Use the median as a passing lane in grid-locked traffic.

Seriously, becoming a disqualified driver takes skill, study and the proper mind-set. It's not just any old schmoe who can become the classic disqualified driver. Just ask any little old lady; she's had years to learn all her skills.

*The Oh My God, I Missed The Turn two-step. She will sit up straighter, grip the wheel in both hands, and whip her car across four lanes of traffic in order to flawlessly execute a U-turn, which will put her in the opposite direction so she can make her turn.

*The I Can't Read That Street Sign crawl. In which she will scrunch up her eyes, position her car half on the curb and half off, put it in park, exit the car and walk to the street sign, only to realize that it's a No Parking sign.

*The Where's The Meat? squeal. She will relentlessly tailgate you because she's convinced she recognizes your car as her daughter's. She is equally convinced you know where the closest hamburger joint is located and doesn't want to lose sight of your car lest she miss the meat.

*The I Don't Remember This Road Being That Heavily Traveled Before creep. She chooses rush hour to go to the grocery store, is frightened by the traffic whizzing past her, so she hugs the extreme right curb at one to two miles per hour and has the brass to complain that you are the worst driver she has ever seen.

Most disqualified driver insurance, however, is saved especially for the driver who leaves the party stone sober but upon arrival at home drives into the garage door - when it's up.