Another Night in Home Park

So there I was, driving way too fast in my little car. I had three friends packed into it. It was late, late at night. I know it was irresponsible to be driving so fast, but it sure was fun. It was a big road near my place, but there were very few cars on it given the hour. We weren't putting anyone in imminent danger; that's how I justify it anyway.

Well, as you can imagine, one of those other cars was a police cruiser. I hardly had time to notice he was there before the siren and the lights came on. Well, I was so close to home, I thought, I should try to lose him in one of the dingy side streets. With my tiny little car and his massive cruiser, there's no way he could chase me--if only I could make it into the neighborhood. There were several different streets on could turn onto.

He was pulling very close behind me, as I knew he would. With that engine there was no way I could outrun him. But there I was, about to take a left onto one of the narrow, dim streets that I thanked my college for making tight with cars. Once I was in, I was set.

I consider myself pretty sharp when it comes to physics, but it became clear immediately that I had a lot to learn about cars. I didn't make the turn. In fact, I almost didn't make it, period. There were two lanes on the left side of the street and a broad sidewalk, and then a stone wall. The car slid up to the curb and then around, beating the hell out of the wheels and axles, but we fell back down heavily instead of flipping, and we were all intact. The cop slid around behind us, taking up the two lanes.

It wasn't the brightest thing to do, but with the adrenaline pumping and the cop nearing, we all piled out of the car and bolted on foot. Thanks to our hooded sweatshirts and wool caps we felt pretty sure he couldn't get a description of any of us. We split up and ran through yards, over fences, in front of cars, and as fast as we could back to the room I rented in a house that was nice in the 1920s, but hasn't been since.

Once inside, my friends could hardly sit still. "What the hell are you going to do?" I kept hearing, over and over. "We should leave. They'll trace your car, they're probably on the way now." I had just registered it, they could definitely find me. They were pretty sure they couldn't be connected to it, but they knew I was screwed.

I told them to relax as I bent over the sink to wet my hair. I changed into a t-shirt and shorts. Just as I finished we heard a knock at the door. I told everyone not to let the cops know they were here: "Shut up, don't move." They looked like deer in headlights.

I opened the door and said, "I'm glad you're here officer. My car just got stolen."

Thirty minutes later, after he broke the news about my car and filled out a report, the officer exchanged a few words with the other two who'd shown up, and they all left. I knew they didn't believe a word of what I told them, but I was in the clear.


This story (more or less) came to me via Mike Davis, my 10th-grade history teacher. Whether it actually happened to him or if he was also just relaying it I don't know. It should not be considered an endorsement of irresponsible behavior, of course. Don't try it at home.

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Great story. I love happy

Great story. I love happy endings.

Excellent. You should have

Excellent. You should have claimed it as your own though. But you probably anticipated someone calling you out.

To Randall's credit, the original story did not have nearly this amount of detail, which makes it more believeable. And in all fairness, you can't have this story without the first, and you should treat your first like your last, and your last like your first.

Someone should bring this to Dr. Davis' attention. I'm sure he would find it humorous.