For a society utterly dependent on the

internal combustion engine, you people sure hate driving. Okay, you

don't hate driving per se, but you hate traffic, speeding, lousy

drivers, traffic, loud motorcycles, traffic, arrogant drivers, traffic,

traffic, stupid drivers, gasoline thieves and traffic. At least, that's

what you tell us. And it's all marvelously entertaining, so please keep

those Eh Brah! submissions coming.

As always, you can send your completely

anonymous denunciations of anyone or anything on Maui to Eh Brah!, c/o

Maui Time Weekly, 33 N. Market St., Ste. 201, Wailuku, HI 96793 or

email them to ehbrah@mauitime.com.

-The Editors







To the pretty lady who tried to drive under my 18-wheeler and then shouted at me when I didn't stop instantly:

You and your little car are very cute, but cuteness doesn't exactly

stop 80,000 pounds of rolling truck. In the traffic situation you and I

found ourselves in, you're obligated to stay in your lane, just as I

was staying in my lane. Otherwise, very bad things will happen. See, I

really hate doing all the paperwork that comes from someone driving

under my truck, to say nothing of the fact that it takes 3,000 miles to

get the bloodstains out of my tires. By the way, you're very cute when

you're angry, and I hope to see you and your little car whizzing

merrily around the island for a long time to come. So please be

careful.





This goes out to that guy who insisted on spying on his soon-to-be ex-wife by speeding up and down our road. You

know, there are many keiki who walk on the road, not to mention the

various cars that park on both sides of the street. So try driving

slow—I suggest the speed limit or perhaps slower when you see kids

running around—or else there will be more calls to your employer, whose

name is so helpfully printed on the side of your vehicle. I don't know

why you don't trust your wife, because no one else visits her. Look,

whatever you do, just slow down, watch your mouth and don't upset the

neighbors. Also, a lot of us have pets and if you hit one of our pets

or keiki—well, I think you get the idea. Slow down!





Just wanted to explain to the couple in the blue truck with the camper why I gave them the bird times: your

reckless, stupid driving put myself and my family in danger. I was

driving the blue van on Kahului Beach Road and you kept trying to merge

into my lane. See, if you had hit my van, it would have been on the

side where my precious two-month-old daughter was sleeping so

peacefully in her car seat. I guess you were too busy rushing to

get to the Jack Johnson concert to see passing trivialities like my

van. But what was the deal with your chick laughing every time I honked

my horn at you or stuck my finger out at you? My husband, who was

sitting with my baby, would have given her something more to laugh

at if you had hit my van. So next time, be aware of your surroundings.

Pay attention when you merge into other people's lanes or you may

get more than the flick of the bird.





Just wanted to thank the ignorant

girl who rear-ended my sister pau hana time, 5 p.m. on Friday at

the Ka'anapali Parkway intersection. Thanks especially for

running off because you're either too young to be driving, had no

insurance or was just a flat-out inconsiderate asshole. My sister

totally suffers from whiplash because you hit her so damn hard and

didn't even have the decency to pull over and see if she was okay and

exchange insurance information and then call the

police, like the law says you're supposed to do. Please, stay

off the roads if you can't comply.  





Dear young road rager: since

very few people like you know how to drive on this island with any

sense of etiquette or common sense, let me fill you in on why you had

no reason to get out of your car and yell like you did a few weeks ago.

See, when I was in the lane next to you at the stoplight and I stepped

on the gas, it was with the intention of passing you before the merge.

I like to drive at the speed limit, but when you insisted on taking the

lead and driving far slower than the speed limit, that's where your

poor behavior started. At first I tried to ignore your ranting at me,

but when we reached the traffic jam in Paia it was just too much when

you got out of your car and yelled "Get off my ass" at me. Now I can

understand that being in a traffic jam is frustrating, but let me

assure you, when we were going about five miles per hour, and there was

a car length between us, that's not tailgating. It's called going slow.

So, my young sistah, think twice next time before you jump out of your

car and vent your frustrations at someone on the road.





You really should get your license revoked. You,

sitting in your white SUV, were behind me at the Liloa St. intersection

waiting for the green light. Apparently I didn't jump as fast as you

liked when the light changed because otherwise why would you feel it

necessary to drive into the oncoming lane to pass me? I couldn't

believe that you were speeding as well as passing, right where the 20

miles per hour speed limit sign is posted! Did you care that you were

within sight of the Kihei Elementary School? Do you not know the rules

about driving in a school zone? Or do you just believe the rules don't

apply to you? Either way, you're just nuts.





Thanks, punks, for teaching me that a lock on gas caps is useless. One

Wednesday night last month, after working long and hard on my car, I

parked it in North Kihei. I figured that a lockable gas cap would

prevent people from siphoning my expensive gasoline. But you

enterprising young bastards just punched a hole through my fuel tank so

you could steal my full tank of gas. And you did it under the lights

and away from the growing weeds, too. Very impressive—I thought my car

was safe, but I was wrong. And when I got into my car that night, the

fuel gauge showed plenty of gas in the tank. But I'd only driven a few

yards when the fuel light went on. At the gas station, I smelled gas

and found a mean puddle forming beneath the car. The next morning,

checking out the underside, I saw a paper towel stuck in the gas tank.

Unbelievable! Now though I found a fuel tank repair kit and fixed it

myself—which I'm proud of, thank you very much—what you jackasses did

was unconscionable. How can you sleep at night?





This is for the fool in a blue car exiting the Shops at Wailea parking lot on a few Sunday mornings ago. You

drove across Alanui and headed towards Kihei as I was on the left lane

of Alanui heading towards Makena. I had to change course to avoid a

head-on collision, but I couldn't veer off fast enough to avoid you.

Since you hit the back of my vehicle really hard, I figured that you

would stop to see the damage on my car or maybe make sure that I wasn't

hurt. Instead you kept on going as if nothing happened. Well, I have

some news for you: there were witnesses. These witnesses got your

license plate number as well as the make and model of your car. I

really hope your life gets miserable soon.





This goes out to the young lady in the tank top who is in serious need of some driving lessons and an attitude overhaul.

You know you're a crazy bitch, right? It wasn't enough that when you

sat at the light at Pu'unene and Dairy Rd., you continually inched

forward as you wait for the light to change. Or that when it finally

did go green you charged forward in an attempt to pass as many cars as

possible. Or that you had to lurch in front of me at the last

second—even though your lane had ended and THERE WERE KIDS ON BIKES on

the shoulder! But when I honked at you for almost hitting me, you had

to go and flip me off and shout out your window. Then at the next light

you jumped out of your car and came storming towards me yelling—and

this is what I found most funny—that I needed "to calm the fuck down!"

and "Get back to the mainland!" First of all, you didn't look local

yourself, and my 10 years on Maui is surely longer than your time here.

Second, it's customary for someone who has to make car payments—like

me—to honk when almost run into by some beat-up cruiser—that would be

you. And third, when you're the only person standing in the middle of

the street screaming at someone to calm down, maybe you're the one who

needs to calm down. Anyway, you also asked me, "What did you want me to

do?" Here's a thought: stop acting like a fool who drives around like

the street is a racetrack. Clearly, anyone who drives so fast that she

nearly hits other drivers and a few kids on bikes needs to "get back to

the mainland."





Oh, how I wish all you

noise-polluting, wanna-be bad-boy Harley motorcycle idiots who ride

Upcountry on Sunday would buy a muffler. How would you like it

if I pulled up in front of your house at 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning in

a flatbed truck hauling a 5,000-watt concert sound system and turned it

on full blast with the speakers aimed at your living room window?

Because that's what it's like when you morons ride en masse up Kula and

Kekaulike Highways on Sunday mornings. Whether you're riding on the

lower or upper highway, you ruin Sundays for Kula residents from Crater

Road to Five Trees to Keokea. It's bad enough you usually ride at 80 to

120 miles per hour up Crater Road and on Kula Highway between Rice Park

and Grandma's. But I smile when I see that, because sooner or later the

police will be scraping your remains off the pavement, and you will

have removed your lame-brained selves from the gene pool—hopefully,

before you've procreated and passed your cretinism on to progeny.





Just want to say Aloha to the

asshole in the dark blue 4-door pickup that passed me in the school

zone in front of Kula Elementary the other morning. You rode my

ass most of the way through the school zone and then decided you needed

to pass me on the left—in a no passing zone—and then speed through the

rest of the school zone. All that just so you could get stuck behind

other traffic from there until your turn onto Pulehu Rd. Your blatant

disregard for the safety of little children and other drivers, to say

nothing of numerous traffic laws, really warmed my heart. I hope those

two whole seconds you gained were really worth risking innocent lives

and chancing a $277 fine. I hope you and all the other assholes like

you get everything you deserve.





Thanks a lot, jerk. All I

wanted was a ride into town—a distance of not more than two miles. You

were coming out of the complex the same time I was, so I asked you if

you were going my way. Without even hesitating, you said no, drove out

of the complex and then turned towards town. What the hell? Was giving

me a ride going to be that horrible? I was headed to work, though I

doubt you care, and was, as usual, freshly showered. Normally I drive,

but car problems forced me to hitch that particular day. I would have

been in the car with you at most 10 minutes. If you didn't want to give

me a ride, why didn't you just say you don't pick up hitchhikers or

something like that, instead of just lying to me and then heading off

as if I didn't exist. Sure, I got to work eventually—an hour late.

Thank God my boss is an understanding person, unlike you. MTW