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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Well, at least the traffic's let up. I'll be home in no time now.
Oh, poor Henry's probably in there. Better pull the fire alarm.
- So who's gonna teach you how to drive? - The Aero-Space Driving SchooI.
Oh, of course, Mr. Tweeter. I'm getting the hang of it now.
But slow!
That does it! What are you, some kind of a sadist or something?
- ... but I'll have to ask Mother. - Judy!
Let's back up and try it again.
Five minutes later than the last time you asked, Daddy. Why?
Well, let's face it, there will always be women drivers.
Yeah, and I want to say something to them.
Boy, this better be good.
But you don't know how to drive.
You know, George, I really don't care much about driving anyway.
- No. Knuckles. - It's a dramatic story, folks.
- Oh, thank you. - It's all right.
...instructor at the Aero-Space Driving School.
Yes, sir. Now, let me see. Down is back.
- There, how was that? - Well, you stopped, thank goodness.
- How about a date tonight, Judy? - Well, I'd love to, Bobby...
...at the apartment house. Right, poopsie?
Now, come on, boy, go fetch my slippers.
Women drivers. I ought to be arrested for running this schooI.
I think I'm getting airsick.
"Antidisestablishmentarianism. "
- Bologna. - Bologna? What do you mean?