The adventures of a habitual traffic offender - Part 2

Check out part 1 of this epic tale. As an FYI, the car I drove was a 1986 or 1987 Oldsmobile Toronado/Trofeo. The headlights had a cover that would flip down and it had a powerful v6 engine, this wasn't the v8 model.

---

Some weeks had past since my run in with Brattleboro's finest and there hadn't been any further incidents. I was working on saving some cash to get things on the up and up. Things don't always turn out as you'd like them to, expect them to, or need them to. I had lost my job at the printer repair place - which was not an entirely bad thing. What happened was... well, lets just say there were professional differences. Two months working for this guy down the drain. Easy come, easy go. My father wasn't thrilled about the loss of the job. I don't know how he knew but he came to the apartment during his lunch break and found me there. I packed my stuff and drove to Massachusetts after my Dad went back to work. He didn't kick me out or even know that I was leaving, I just up and left. I had no job and no prospects in Brattleboro, I knew the Greenfield area and could get a job easily - South Deerfield always had clerical or data entry jobs up for the taking. During the time I was in Vermont, my friend Lee has moved into his own apartment with his cousin Jesse. I ran into him once while driving through Turners Falls. He offered me a place to stay and when I drove into Massachusetts I was going to cash in the offer. [ The trailer was cool, but that apartment was awesome! It was above a bar/night club – a scrubby, dirty one to boot! Music would shake the apartment until 1 a.m. or so. Our neighbors were always yelling and causing a disturbance. Lee and I would life weights until muscle failure. We’d eat tuna fish on white bread and white rice with ketchup. After a while plain white bread was boring, so I bought a toaster. Tuna on toast is 100 times better! Sometimes we’d order a bunch of egg rolls from next door and pig out. Lee didn’t want to get caught for violating his lease, so Jesse and I would duck out and hide when his landlord would come by. Good times! ] So I showed up on his door step and claimed his couch. It was a small couch, more of a love seat. Life in Massachusetts began again. As a telling of things to come, the Friday of my first week there the fuzz came a calling. I guess that I parked in a neighbors spot and I didn’t move it for a week, they phoned in an abandoned car complaint. No hard feelings, I would have too. Since my car wasn’t legal to drive, I didn’t drive it. Simple enough. We would either take Lee’s car or I’d walk. When I showed up, Lee told me to park the car in the lot behind the diner next door. I never bothered to move it. I don’t know why but I happened to look out the window as the boys in blue were popping my trunk. I don’t remember leaving the doors unlock or maybe they jimmied the lock – all I know for sure was I was down the stairs in 10 seconds flat. When I got down the stair and over to the car one officer was brandishing one of my swords* and the other was counting my cash. [ * My mother moved from Northfield out to Merrimac. When she did, she gave me a reproduction barbarian sword, flail and battle axe. I also had a Marine Saber I bought from a tag sale. Having just moved from my father’s apartment, I didn’t fully unpack the car yet. You make the call, which red flag is… redder, 50 one dollar bills rolled and secured with a rubber band – drug dealer/pimp style or two swords, a battle axe, and a flail? Luckily I had removed the bodies of the hookers stuffed with cocaine from the trunk. ] “This your car?” The officer counting the money asked. “What’s the problem?” As I asked the officer who was previously wielding my barbarian sword produced the flail from my trunk. “Um. Those are fake, sir.” A spiked-ball on a chain fashioned to wood, reproduction – sure, deadly weapon – yes. Thanks for the gifts, Mom! “We had a report of an abandoned vehicle. This car can’t be here, it can’t legally be on the road. The tow truck is on the way.” “Sir, I know the registration has expired. That’s why it’s parked here. I found out that it was expired and stopped driving it! That’s why its parked here! I just moved here, " I pointed toward the window that my two roommates were looking out of. “I didn’t know I couldn’t park here, could I just move it over to this lot?” "This vehicle can’t be on a public road and I can’t allow you to drive this vehicle. The tow truck is on the way.” He looked over the car. “I understand you were trying to do the right thing. I won’t have the car taken to impound but it can’t stay here. You can make the arrangements with the tow truck driver.” He seemed nice enough and I’m sure that had his partner not been there or the tow truck en route, He’d have let me move it. The tow truck didn’t take long to show up. I tried to get the guy to drop me off around the block but he wouldn’t. He would only drop the car off on private property. My grandmother was closest but I couldn’t use her – I would have been served a heaping of lecture, seasoned with you should know better, with a tall glass of you should visit more. I wasn’t quiet in the mood. Then it hit me; I knew where I could take it. Here comes brother Mike with his car on a flatbed to brother Joe’s apartment. Luckily his driveway was clear. The car was offloaded quickly and I handed over my wad of Washington’s – thanks for counting them officer! With all the commotion, my brother came outside. “What the hell, you can’t keep this here,” he said, obviously annoyed with me. (I have that affect on most people.) “Yeah, I know! It’s not broke down or anything. I’ll explain later.” When the tow truck drove away, so did I. For the next day and a half, the car was left at a storage locker facility my father and I used while we were moving. The locker was still ours until the end of the month, so I figured I could leave my car there next to it with out any issue. Lee brought me over to pick up the car. Oh man, the car was trashed! As I was going through and putting some papers back into the glovebox, the manager of the facility came running over. “Hey Mike, dis yer car?” “Yeah, why?” He remembered my name, but not my car? Come on, how many Toronados are driving around in his lot? There is only one I know of! “I hava yer stuff in da office. I was just about ta call a wrecka.” Deep breath, exhale. Deep breath, exhale. I followed him back to his office. From a drawer in his desk he proceeded to produce my They Might Be Giants CDs, my swords, a SVGA video card and my CD player’s faceplate. Would he have turned those over to the wrecker or police? Hmm… Lee followed me back to the apartment. This time I parked down with Jesse, in the lot behind the diner and… across from the police station. Yup, you heard right – the police station! Summer turned to fall and things were basically uneventful. How long would it last? We’ll see.