This is the Aloha State—tranquil, serene islands in the Pacific, populated by a friendly, relaxed bunch of good folks who really hate automobiles, people who damage automobiles, people who drive automobiles and, of course, people who work for the government offices that regulate automobiles and the people who drive/damage them. Guess Maui just isn’t ready for the internal combustion engine. In the mean time, enjoy!
Brrrraaaaahhh! That’s the sound your car makes as you ROAR down our road at 5:20 a.m. every weekday morning, shaking our whole family awake. I mean, if you were driving something other than a rice-burning grocery cart, maybe I could understand. But to modify and lower your import truck is just ridiculous and unnecessary, and only makes you a wanna-be. Nut-up and buy a Chevy, dude! And what’s the deal with your Harley? On weekends when you break it out, no one is safe! The sound of your bike chases birds from their nests, animals from their resting places, spills coffee and knocks people off their couches! What on Earth is so cool about having a piece of metal between your legs that makes such a racket?! Seems like penile insufficiency issues to me...
This goes out to the big jackass who recently tried to run me off the road. Who do you think you are, sir?! You’re NOT God or anyone else of very high importance, except maybe to your girl, who clearly deserves better. Fancy my luck when a little while later I saw your vehicle—the company car, no less!—at our bar. You got awfully drunk and stoned, while your girl stuck to just one Heineken Light. Naturally, I reported your plates to Maui Police and to your company. Ha! I hope this teaches you a lesson, you big loser!
Hey Mr. Policeman: Isn’t it your kuleana to keep the citizens of our island safe? The next time you pull someone over, could you at least have the brains to allow them to pull over in a safe area, instead of on a busy, narrow section of the highway, forcing traffic to veer into the opposite lane? What’s more important? You making your ticket quota or the safety of our island drivers? Just because you wear a badge, it doesn’t make you above the law.
Eh, guy driving the black Volkswagen on his way to Ka`ahumanu Center: You cut across two lanes without signaling or even looking behind you and didn’t even slow down! You’re damn lucky I didn’t run into your stupid ass or you’d be paying for my new car! I know Sears and Macy’s probably had some good sales going on but, brah, it’s not worth getting me all pissed off and risking having to pay for my new car. Where’d you get the idea you were on a racetrack? Whatever, just realize that even though you didn’t cause an accident this time, it doesn’t mean you won’t the next time. Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Does someone need a hug? Grow up dumbass! Learn how to drive!
To the spineless idiot who hit my car in the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) parking lot and then left: Thanks a lot! You’re about the lowest form of life. People pay a lot of money for their vehicles. I’m a single mother, and what you hit was our first brand new car, which I was finally able to afford by working two jobs. Now I have a dent in the side and the paint has been scratched bad enough that I have to get the door and side painted so it doesn’t rust. The most insulting part is you didn’t even have the guts to leave a note of apology. People are more likely to be forgiving and understanding with an apology than a hit-and-run. I hope you can sleep at night because I’m going to have worry about where I’m going to get the money to pay for the repairs.
This goes out to the guy in the silver minivan going no more than five miles per hour down Front Street in Lahaina. All I did was pass you so I could drive at least the speed limit. But for some reason you got all pissed off and followed my wife and I to the Cannery Mall, where we were headed to enjoy the classic cars. You then pulled up next to us and yelled so many expletives that I actually learned a few new ones. The best part was when you called me a “stupid white boy” and said I should go back to where I came from. Newsflash genius: I was born and raised on Maui. What a great example you showed your kids, who I couldn’t help but notice were with you in the car. You need some serious help, but frankly I’m more concerned for them. What a crappy childhood they must have with you raising them.
Just wanted to thank the jackass who keyed my truck in the parking lot of Sack-N-Save. I so hope you get what’s coming to you. You had no reason to do what you did. I wish you nothing but trials and trouble for the rest of the year. And the next time you take it upon yourself to damage other people’s property and attempt to ruin someone else’s life, think again.
One Saturday a few weeks ago, my four keikis and I played too late at Kam III Beach. By the time we tried to cross the road, it was nearly dark—way too dark for drivers to see a tattered mom trying to herd four sleepy kids across a crazy road. Just when it looked like we’d have to either camp out or hike to the nearest stoplight way up the road, you jogged along and then dashed halfway across the street. “Lucky jogger,” I thought, “he can just zip through the cars without worrying about keeping any kids in one piece.” Then you paused, held up your arms to alert the oncoming traffic to stop, and then waited while the kids and I trotted across the road. Then you ran back to the beach side of the street without saying a word and continued your jog. In the grand scheme of our busy world, it may have seemed like a small, insignificant gesture, but to us it was a real kindness and it made a real impact on four very impressionable little boys.
I still remember what you did. I’m talking about that morning when you slammed into my parked car. Even you admitted that my door was only open about six inches. Never did find out what you were you doing barrelin’ down the road at 2:30 in the morning. And I used to wonder why the police let you go as soon as they arrived and never even gave you a breath test. Then I saw the accident report. In fact, the officer threatened me with a DUI test, and proceeded to write a ticket for not carrying proof of insurance. In fact, I couldn’t find the insurance card until dawn because you hit us so hard the card flew out of the glove box and landed under the seat. I could have died that night, but that wasn’t enough: you still saw fit to slander us, calling us crazy and unstable and claiming that you felt threatened. And yes, I still remember the way I felt when I looked at the accident report, and saw who I was up against.
This is to all the people who use Ohukai Road in Kihei as a raceway. Especially you! You know who you are. I am sick and tired of your loud, freaking truck racing up and down our street at all hours. What are you, an Ice dealer? We know you can’t drive, either, because you smashed your front end twice in the last six months. What an idiot you are. Hopefully no one got injured by one of your Ice rages. Please take your lame act back to the Mainland or take yourself out of the gene pool, future Darwin Award winner!
This goes out to the owner of the big ass Chevy diesel truck in Kihei who insists on forcing the entire neighborhood to listen to your over-powered sound system every Sunday morning. First of all, why do you let your annoying diesel engine run while you play your dumb ass rap crap? Second, don’t you have respect for your neighbors? Some of us like sleeping in, jerk! Maybe it’s time for you to move or sell your truck (I guess you bought it because of your undersized brain and penis). So please turn off that rap crap and move to Hicksville. On Sunday mornings, we like it quiet in our neighborhood.
To the driver of the white sod truck that pulled onto Hana Highway in Haiku at 7:30 a.m. without bothering to see if he was cutting anyone off: I just wanted to let know that I had to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting you and possibly injuring you and your passenger. Please thank your lucky star that I (1) have very quick reaction time, due to my tai chi practice and non-use of substances; (2) was not eating or talking on my cell phone; and (3) recently had my brakes checked and had new tires installed. It appears that you were unclear as to who had the right of way. Guess what? It wasn’t you. See, there was a Yield sign at your intersection, which means you have to allow traffic in the main artery to pass before you enter. Next time, wait!
You were amazing, sistah. Here you were, driving with a cigarette in one hand, a cell-phone in the other, steering with one forearm while hunched over and yakking away. You go to some kind of school to learn skills like that? I took Driver’s Ed in high school, but they never taught us how to do what you were doing. Really, who needs drunk drivers when you’re on the road?
Mahalo, pea brains at the DMV! Last week I was trying to help my Kula friend return to the world after a nearly three-month stay in Maui Memorial, so we went over to the Pukulani Satellite DMV office to get a disabled placard for his car. Oh, bradda! Your hours, clearly posted on front door, said the office was open until “10:45 a.m.” So we got there, relieved to see we were just in time—10:38 a.m. cell-phone time (linked to a big atomic clock somewhere). But the instant you saw me (a big white boy), you—a government employee paid by my tax money—jumped out of your chair like a spider bit you on the ass and ran over to lock the front door. When I tried the door, you yelled that you were closed. “Na, you go away,” you said. “We close lunch.” So then I pleaded if you could just answer a quick question. “Na, you no listen,” you said. “We close lunch. Go away.” Meanwhile, my friend just waited in his car. Thanks.
I am a local woman with all the Aloha Spirit in the world, but it’s hard to keep it when you have tourists acting as if they are gods here. Not long ago I was driving down Front Street and a big fat-ass tourist woman and her kids were walking accross the road. So I politely yelled, “Use a crosswalk next time and it would be safer to cross” and proceeded to go about my business. Then I pulled in to the gas station across from Safeway. That’s when you pulled in behind me and started screaming, “That’s that fuckin’ crosswalk bitch!” Being that I’m a local I spun my car around to find out what such a fat cow was yelling at, only to find that you were yelling at me. “If you’re in Hawai‘i, learn the Hawaiian way,” I told you. Didn’t it bother you that as you were cursing me, there were small children in your car? It certainly bothered me, which is why I yelled, “Good example for your children.” So then your husband jumped out and started telling me to shut up. That’s when I lost it. “Fuckin’ dumbass tourists!” I yelled. “Spend your money and go home.” Now I’m mad. What the hell do I do? I’m just trying to keep it nice, keep the Aloha Spirit, but it was just too much. So please, if you’re new to Hawai‘i, please look out for your children, look out for people around you, and please, please, don’t be stupid.
This one goes out to the braddah who shined his brights on me and followed me one night, then whacked my car and called me out. Brah, I just wanted to say I was fully in the wrong and would have done the same thing if I was in your place. I hope the next time we meet that it will be on the beach watching the sunset with an icy cold beverage. I apologize for my piss-poor behavior—no matter how bad a day I was having, it did not excuse my Mainland attitude. I just want to let you know that it weighs heavily on my conscience when I think how I could have acted differently. I know that this island is preserved by family integrity and not reckless egocentric agendas. I had forgotten that, and I am sorry.
Send your completely anonymous denunciations of anyone or anything on the island to Eh Brah!, c/o Maui Time Weekly, 33 N. Market St., Ste. 201, Wailuku, HI 96793 or email them to email@example.com. MTW