Last Friday, I finally got the tags on Roxy (my truck) up to date and I’m all nice and legal now. I’m having a hard time adjusting to it. I don’t check the rearview mirror every few minutes looking for Brother Bacon (the police) and I’m not on the look out for unmarked cars either. I don’t have to be the on guard “outlaw” trying to stay one step ahead.
Whew! I can rest. But yet I can’t. I keep looking and I’m always expecting that blue light.
I got to like the “outlaw” lifestyle that I’ve been living since I let my tags run out. It was like a game with no real consequences.
I’ve been busted plenty of times for expired tags and inspection stickers… And there’s usually a slap on the hand and I’m off again. It’s not like I’m going to be thrown into jail to provide carnal pleasure to some guy nicknamed for his problems concerning his murderous anger.
I liked being on the lookout.
Just a few weeks ago, I was working and prepping for the Weather Dave Will Bastard Show and I was getting hungry. I told a working Chris Kelly that I was going to Wendy’s and asked if he wanted something. He declined and I hit Lee Street pointed in the general direction.
But then I remembered that the downtown Hardee’s is now open on Sundays. So at the last second, I turned onto Eugene Street and headed for the sweet, delicious Monster Thick Burger.
I really needed one because I just didn’t feel right from all the drinking that I did with Marcia Gan on our Baseball outing the night before. And if you’re a professional drinker like myself, then you know the only way to right yourself is to eat a big, fattening meal. So why not eat one that’s going to go down good? Right?
A Hardee’s Monster Thick Burger was what I was needing complete with a large ass Coke and Curly Fries.
I traveled down Eugene Street passing the Jail and Courthouses. I took a left on Friendly Avenue and headed for Edgeworth and Spring. Because that’s where the Monster Thick Burger can be found.
As I get the green light at Edgeworth, I noticed the unmarked police car coming to a stop at the light.
Man, I thought to myself, I’ve got to hurry up and get in this lot. Perhaps I should park and get out.
But I decided to stay with Roxy and hit the drive-thru.
The attendant came on the box and tried to sell me a combo that I have no interest in. Why do they do that? It drives me crazy.
I said, “Combo number 8… With Curly Fries and a Coke.”
“I’m sorry, can you repeat your order please?” the attendant asked over what sounded like a good connection to me.
“Combo number 8… Curly Fries… Coke,” I repeated without any agitation in my voice.
A few seconds went by before he said, “Sir, can you pull up to the window?”
So I did and when I got there he asked, “What was your order?”
And again without any agitation in my voice I said, “Combo number 8… Curly Fries… Coke.”
“And what did you want to drink with that?” he asked.
“Coke,” I said trying to keep the swelling agitation to a minimum.
He gave me the total and I paid him using what little cash that I had in my pocket instead of using the check card. He was about to shut the little window when I asked him, “Should I pull up to the newspaper box?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That would be great.”
I pull up to the box and guess who has decided that they needed something from Hardee’s as well?
You got it! Brother Bacon in the unmarked police car.
I’m sitting there wondering when the hammer is finally going to fall on me. So I went ahead and pulled out my license and vehicle registration in anticipation. I knew that the jig was up.
I kept checking my rearview mirror waiting for Brother Bacon to run my tags on the radio. I sat there for at least 3 minutes waiting it out, fully expecting the cop to get out of his car and walk up to mine. I just KNEW that I was going to get popped.
Finally, the drive-thru attendant walks out with my bag of the fatty goodness hangover cure. And I left with no problems. But I made sure to change up my direction several times to lose him if he decided to follow.
I now think that it was a good move to let Roxy’s tailgate down in order to obscure the view of the license plate. That may have saved me so that I could outskirt the law for another week or so.
Yes… I am underground dangerous.
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