Tell Us Your Best And Weirdest Cars And Drugs Stories

Image by the great Ralph Steadman, of course
Image by the great Ralph Steadman, of course

So it seems that today’s date has some significance in the drug-enjoyist community. Based on my internet research, it seems that “4/20" is hepcat slang for a moist, potent drug-ball of some sort. Probably peyote and wacky-cheese or something. Anyway, we know you have good drug/car stories, so now’s the time to tell us! Also, we’re not cops.

If it helps, I’ll start. I don’t have anything too dramatic, but I can say that going karting while on shrooms is a remarkable experience I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend to anyone (ATTN: legal department: I’m not recommending this to anyone) and I do have one small tale of warning about cars, drugs, and the inherent deceptiveness of being high.

I was at some LA gallery show I had a small work in years ago, and at this show there were some brownies. Several varieties of them, actually, one of which, I realized midway into brownie three, were made with lots of rich, creamery THC. Pot brownies.


I wasn’t totally sure that I had, in fact, eaten the laced ones, but I felt fine the whole time, not even remotely high, so I figured I managed to get the conventional ones. Eventually, my wife (then-GF) and I decided to leave, and we walked out to my Beetle.

As soon as I sat down and started off, all of a sudden all that THC that had been waiting sprung on me at once, and immediately my body decided it wasn’t really able to control any of my parts.

I remember trying to get my limbs to do things by concentrating really hard and saying things like “Leg! depress clutch pedal by 5 inches. Arm! Grab gearshift and pull backwards four inches. Foot! Increase toe angle while in contact with throttle pedal!”

As you can imagine, this didn’t work so hot. I quickly realized that I could barely blink in unison, let alone drive, so I pulled over and let Sally drive. Sally has a weird superpower that makes her drug tolerance absurdly high, so she wasn’t affected at all. Or, she was just much better at dealing with it. Who knows. Anyway, she was totally fine to get my now sky-high ass home safe, where I could safely attempt to do such complicated tasks as drink from a glass.


Of course, we in no way condone any sort of driving under the influence, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to hear your crazy stories! We’re nosy: tell us some good stuff.

Senior Editor, Jalopnik • Running: 1973 VW Beetle, 2006 Scion xB, 1990 Nissan Pao, 1991 Yugo GV Plus, 2020 Changli EV • Not-so-running: 1977 Dodge Tioga RV (also, buy my book!:

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Many years ago I bought a Porsche 944S for $6700. Rough around the edges, but put work into it and it was running great and starting to turn into quite a nice car.

2000. Just dropped off a friend back home at 11:30PM. I was coming up to the oncoming busiest intersection in his town, about 5 seconds away from the light as it turned green. 6.5 seconds later I was in the middle of the intersection, and the passenger side was T-boned by a Toyota Camry doing about 40 miles an hour that ran his red.

If my friend was still in the passenger seat, I would’ve wore him. The grill of the Camry actually hit my arm. I had a broken right arm (with bone trying to poke through the skin) and two broken ribs. The impact was significant enough that the B-pillars on the driver side partially deformed. What ultimately stopped the Camry was the torque tube.

I kick my door out, and get out. So does the driver of the Camry. Shaggy looking guy with a skeezy goatee. And there he is, wrestling with a king-size pack of Reese’s peanut butter cups. Intently. He can’t get them open. It would turn out that’s why he hit me. He was high as a kite (absolutely reeked), and was futzing with the packaging for 10+ seconds, steering with his knee, while trying to open his peanut butter cups (as he would tell the police officer who showed up).

I’m staring at this guy. He continues futzing away. Drops it. Picks it back up. Tries his teeth. After another MINUTE he opens it. Takes out a cup, unwraps it, and bites into it. He then looks up, a bit surprised at the wreck and says, shit you not...

I got my Toyota in your Porsche!

My left arm wasn’t broken. I used it.