This episode of Traffic School detonates out of the gate before the microphones are even pointed in the correct direction, immediately spiraling into a full-blown civic fever dream where no one is safe, least of all the hosts. What begins as light bickering over malfunctioning equipment mutates into an early-morning tribunal where Crazy Jay phones in to accuse entire stretches of Idaho Falls—including the police department itself—of being “a bunch of garbage,” only to be warmly encouraged to attend a law enforcement luncheon as living evidence that the community is, in fact, feral but friendly. From there, the show snowballs into a bizarre town hall where winter doesn’t exist, snowmobiles are emotional support props, cannibalism is conditionally legal, and every caller sounds like they woke up inside a different genre of movie. Crazy Carl rises from hibernation to discuss snow tires, engine volume, and why side pipes make stereos obsolete, while the hosts debate whether Idaho farmers deserve snow more than skiers deserve joy. The phone lines stay hot as listeners interrogate Lieutenant Crain about loud mufflers, naked bike rides, truck anatomy laws, front license plate loopholes, and whether demanding “THE SHERIFF” during a traffic stop will magically summon a cowboy with supreme authority. Somewhere in the chaos, Robert De Niro appears (allegedly), a man calls 911 150 times in a week, and the Idaho Transportation Department shows up just to throw verbal hands over potholes. By the time Peaches phones in to stir inter-agency rivalry, self-defense hypotheticals involving Teslas and armed hood-jumpers enter the chat, and the hosts beg for listener participation like exhausted cult leaders trying to keep the commune alive. The episode finally limps across the finish line with calls for peace, hugs instead of guns, and the sobering realization that despite all evidence to the contrary, this is technically a public service program.

This episode of Traffic School detonates immediately and never bothers to rebuild society. What begins as a “professional” radio segment powered by the Advocates Injury Attorneys quickly mutates into an audio crime scene featuring fake marriages, fake names, real callers, imaginary statutes, broken equipment, and one increasingly terrified dump button fighting for its life. Victor and Lieutenant Crane spiral through conversations about snowblowers dying tragic deaths, Idaho’s possibly-haunted marriage laws (sleep together = legally bound??? maybe???), and the philosophical freedom of simply declaring “we’re married” on Facebook and letting the courts deal with the emotional fallout. Meanwhile, callers emerge from the abyss—some legitimate, some pranksters, some apparently possessed by Borat himself—asking questions ranging from red-light turning loopholes to whether you can legally drive like Ace Ventura with your head out the window eating bugs. The episode escalates into full chaos as prank callers scream, swear, break the FCC, and expose the horrifying truth: THE DUMP BUTTON IS BROKEN. What follows is pure radio panic—calls are abandoned, producers are feared, Jade is invoked like an inevitable grim reaper, and Victor openly wonders if this is the last broadcast before he’s launched into unemployment. Add in Family Feud hype, outlaw country promotion, accidental profanity, Ravonda calling back like a force of nature, and repeated assurances that “they’ll never catch me,” and you have an episode that feels less like traffic law education and more like an audio hostage situation where everyone is laughing, sweating, and praying the FCC wasn’t listening. By the end, Traffic School doesn’t so much end as it collapses—mic off, nerves fried, careers dangling—cementing this installment as a legendary train wreck wrapped in a siren, duct-taped to a broken broadcast console, and driven straight through the guardrail at full speed.

The new year kicks off with Traffic School immediately swerving into the guardrail in the best possible way. Viktor drags Lieutenant Crain back into the studio after what feels like a legally questionable hiatus, and within minutes the show descends into a philosophical debate about whether a car can legally live its entire life in reverse. This question—courtesy of the season’s first call from Crazy J—sets the tone: logic will be challenged, patience will be tested, and common sense will be taken out back and lightly scolded. From there, the episode ricochets through everything from kneecap-based law enforcement hypotheticals to the sobering realization that yes, Idaho law does in fact expect you to stop when exiting a parking lot, even if you’re late and spiritually opposed to stopping.

As the calls roll in, the show tackles the real issues plaguing society: break-checking as a lifestyle choice, why insurance companies absolutely hate you on a personal level, and whether being drunk, anxious, apologetic, or mounted on a horse will magically exempt you from consequences. Viktor pitches increasingly dumb scenarios with absolute confidence, while Lieutenant Crain patiently explains—again—that intent still matters, reverse is not a travel strategy, and no, tapping your brakes to “send a message” is not the loophole you think it is. Somewhere in the middle, the conversation detours into stolen mandolins, electric bluegrass fantasies, public nudity hypotheticals involving hot tubs, and a deeply scientific estimate of what percentage of the population is walking around with their brain unplugged.

The episode wraps by answering questions nobody asked but everyone needed answered: how long a train is supposed to block your life, why on-ramps continue to defeat fully licensed adults, whether Santa is operating under a federal exemption, and how many laws exist purely to irritate Viktor specifically. Toss in a Family Feud tease, a snowblower casualty report, and multiple callers named John, and you’ve got an episode that feels less like traffic school and more like an audio stress test for civilization. Welcome to the new year—nothing has improved.