thank you for speeding!

Good Evening my fellow Miscreants,

I was headed from Aurora to the ½ way to Fort Collins meeting point that my wife sized unit or myself to go every weekend to deliver her spawn to his other parent (the term ‘father is up for debate, we know genetically he is, but as a life influence goes…) and wanted to express my gratitude.

I have driven this route several times. I probably could do it with my eyes closed, except for the traffic, the one Variable.  Tonight as I drove, I waved to the young man in the pickup truck, and hoped that my parade princess wave was appreciated. After all he did me a great service.

As we drove, he came up behind me. It was work for his Ford pickup to catch my small convertible, and to be honest had I not shed 15 MPH off of my speed he never really would have.  Of course he objected to this drop in speed using his lights, flashing in Morris code “move your a$$ I want to drive”

I complied, after all I knew I could not go into that section of the highway in the condition that it was in at the speed he wanted, and so I deferred to his youthful vigor.

He made it about ½ a mile before the on ramp he passed lite up like a pinball machine.

I can’t help but wonder if he realized the condition of the highway I mentioned earlier was there was no patrol car with its latest catch?  The police park at this location everyday all the time. You can set your odometer by this speed trap, and you can also tell the people who live in the area from those that don’t. The residents, like myself, know to slow down.  The police set up there any day ending with a Y.

I hope the officer cut you a small break my young friend, and thanks for smoking him out so I could return to the real speeds, not just the posted speed limit.

My 100th POST – and a Cautionary Tale

Hello my fellow miscreants,

Not counting re-blogs today marks the 100th entry I have done. So to celebrate I’ve decided to share with all of you a twisted tale of my youth. I will put up the following disclaimer! Don’t try this at home, or when you’re out or if you’re thinking about it, or if you don’t realize what an incredibly bad idea repeating this is. It is a twisted tale of Youthful stupidity, alcohol and dumb luck. The combination of which have reduced my allotted amount of fame from 15 minutes to about 11.

(Seriously, I know how stupid this was, I have never and will never do parts it again! but despite all that, it is funny.)

I take you now back to the end of the eighties. I was staying with my high school buddy down in Arizona, near the California/Mexico border. My friend Scott was in the military and we had a shithole apartment. As it turns out the AC in the apartment had failed, and the landlord had already taken a week to repair it. If you have never been in AZ during the summer without AC, the closest simulation I can think of is Hell, but all the flights are booked there, so you’ll have to trust me ‘miserable’ (with a long string of leading expletives) is the only description.

So this particular night Scott informed me that he was going to sleep on base. We had gone out drinking in an attempt beat the heat all week and as a result he had been late to work every day for the week. Something his sergeant had zero tolerance for.

Because I had no interest in returning to the apartment (it was 90+ degrees outside and already 11:30 at night) I elected to stay with one of my bar buddies.

I knew this person only because we had shot pool most of the week, and he sucked at it enough that I was able to stay liquefied with little effort.

During the night, I was introduced to “Bob” also known as Silent Bob. Not named for his resemblance to the actor/character but because all night he said nothing.

At 3 am the bar rudely closed, and sent Bob, my pool buddy and me all packing. My pool buddy agreed to drive me home, and thanks to no small amount of alcohol I accepted the ride. I piled into the back seat of the 78 Cadillac and Bob was in the front passenger, Pool buddy drove.

As we began to drive into the night, my pool buddy (whose alcohol consumption I had poorly monitored) declared “I pay taxes. Roads are built with Taxes. These are my roads”

With that declaration we sped up to 60 MPH on city streets. After a few moments, Pool buddy thought he saw a cop car. Whether or not he did or didn’t, he began evasive driving to avoid a ticket for Speeding (and the DUI he would have desperately needed)

We drove around before he decided to hit a speed bump inside a trailer park, launching the Cadillac into the bedroom of one of the trailers.

It was at that moment that I regretted not wearing a seat belt.

How long I was stunned for I am unsure, but I remember hearing the engine of the Cadillac cranking as my pool buddy, unaware that his car was both high centered and losing all of its vital fluids tried to get the car moving again [ultimately they ended up needing a crane to lift it off the trailer]

I attempted to exit the driver’s side door, but the bed of the trailer’s owners was blocking it from opening. And I remembered seeing the look of amazement on their faces. Amazement being the best word to describe being woken at 3 am to find a Cadillac in their closet.

I opened the passenger side door and immediately discovered that my leg was no longer functional, unknown to me at the time, I had dislocated my knee and torn some ligaments. The alcohol I had consumed before blocking my pain sensor from fully registering the damage.

Silent Bob had exited the car as well, and by now the distant sound of approaching sirens was filling the night.

I asked Bob to help me walk. He silently helped me up and acted like a crutch. We left before the first police car arrived and worked our way home.

It was a slow painful walk toward my apartment Bob carrying me part of the way. I saw the spotlight from a police cruiser. It was clear they were searching for something, and at this time of the night, the only thing that made any sense was they were searching for me.

The two of us were able to reach apartment without the police catching us, despite the number of cruisers that I noted out searching.

I asked Bob what his plans were, he said nothing. I asked where he lived, he said nothing. I decided that it was too late and we were too drunk for either to matter, so I told him he could sleep where ever, I was taking the couch.

The next morning, the sun was already at his brutal work heating the area. I also received an express delivery of pain from my leg. Bob was still sitting in the chair, right where I had left him.

After several more attempts to talk to him, all of which were greeted with the now annoying silence, I turned on the TV.

The sight of the Cadillac wedged into the side of the trailer was not as shocking to me as the fact they were running it at 10 something in the morning, interrupting their day time schedule.

It was when the Announcer showed the picture of Bob and a composite drawing of me that I found the sudden urge to turn up the TV irresistible.

There are millions of words in the English language, and all of them combined could not express the thoughts I had hearing the announcer talking about how the search for “Bob” ,and the man he was seen leaving the crash, with had expanded. The city police, the county sheriff were being joined by the State Police.

Silent Bob as it turned out, was what is now called an “At Risk Adult” back then, they said he was a patient at a local mental institute. My Pool Buddy was his consoler. They were doing socialization exercises when, after an over indulgence of alcohol my pool buddy lost track of “Bob”

Once again I doubt the supply of expletives available to the entire planet for a year could be strung together to describe my thoughts at that moment.

I found myself on my couch, unable to move off because my lower leg was swollen to obscene proportions. In my apartment, that was already over 100 Degrees, was what the TV was describing as an escaped mental patient.

I decided to call the police, and lie. Tell them I found “Bob” outside wandering and brought him back in and called them. I hopped over to the phone, moved it back to the couch, raided the fridge for a bottle of liquid courage and dialed the number that was up on the screen. I hid my leg under a blanket, hoping they wouldn’t notice that it was 100 Degrees and I was using a blanket to keep my legs ‘warm’

The police arrived in less than 10 minutes. They scooped up Bob and had an ambulance transport me to the hospital. Somehow they had seen through my clever deception.

In the end, my Pool buddy lost his drivers license for 5 years for DUI, lost his Job at the mental hospital, lost his consoling license and ended up paying a load of money above the insurance for the damages caused to everyone.

The police asked me for a statement, and I received an extensive lecture about the dangers of DUI.

So take this as a cautionary tale my fellow miscreants, and thanks for following me to my 100th epic post.