It was not my finest hour...

I was coming home from a beer tasting event quite inebriated. It was four in the morning when I entered the freeway. I realized my seatbelt wasn't buckled so as I was fumbling to get it together, I nearly sideswiped a semi. Well he must have called the highway patrol, because it wasn't long before there was an officer on my ass. That made me very nervous and I drove really slow while trying to keep it between the lines.

Finally the blinking lights came on and I slowly pulled over to the shoulder. He motioned for me to roll down the window and I motioned for him to go around to the passenger side. The highway patrol officer had a very disgusted look on his face.

He asked to see my driver's license. I showed him my wallet and he demanded that I remove my license. “Well… do you have any needle-nosed pliars?” I knew that was the only way it could be forcibly removed from my steadfast wallet.

After a heavy (and aggravated) exhale, he said, “Wait a minute -- I’ll be right back…”

Sure as shit, he reappeared at the window and handed me the pliars.

As I was fiddling with my wallet, he asked me why I was going so slow and swerving.

“If you had an asshole ridin’ your ass with the headlights blinding you, you'd swerve too!”

That was not the right thing to say.

He threw the book at me and the rest is history. That's when I wrote my first song: “I found Jesus while laying on the jailhouse floor.''