The Speeding Hillbilly

A hillbilly was flying down a backroad in his beat-up pickup truck when a state trooper pulled him over. The officer walked up to the window and said, "Sir, I clocked you doing eighty in a fifty-five. I’m going to need to see your driver's license."

The hillbilly spit some tobacco juice out the window and shook his head. "Well now, Officer, I’d love to help you out, but I don’t have one. Lost it four years ago for driving while intoxicated."

The officer blinked, startled. "I see. Well, let me see the registration for this vehicle."

"Can’t do that neither," the hillbilly replied. "I stole this truck. I think the owner’s registration is in the glove box, right next to the pistol I used to take it from him."

The officer’s jaw dropped. He slowly backed away and called for backup. Within minutes, five more police cars surrounded the truck. A senior sergeant approached with his gun drawn. "Sir, step out! My officer says you stole this truck, you’re armed, and you don’t have a license!"

The hillbilly stepped out, looking confused. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a perfectly valid license, and then handed over the legal registration.

The sergeant scratched his head. "That’s strange. My officer said you didn't have a license, had a gun, and stole this truck."

The hillbilly grinned. "I bet that liar told you I was speeding, too!"