My Chariot

My Chariot

Quick post tonight. It’s well past midnight. Sorry Deb. I just finished a 10 minute practice. I got home very late after being chauffeured home in the back of a Phoenix Police squad car. No…I’m not in trouble with the law, I just found out the hard way that if I’m going to clean the car windows it’s best to keep the car keys on me rather than the front seat.

Apparently I have automatic door locks that lock the doors immediately if somebody touches the car. Luckily for me there were 2 squad cars at the Circle K on 7th Ave and Roosevelt, one of whom was kind enough to drive me to my home to get a spare key and back to the Circle K, while the other cop watched the car and tended to the 2 teenagers caught trying to shoplift beer.


All’s well though. I had a house guest here to open the door for me, even though I thought it was funny that she didn’t realize the strange man standing in front of the door was a cop.

BTW, Guess what? There’s no cushions in the back of the squad car. It was a hard plastic bench like a subway or bus bench minus the butt grooves; grill bars on the windows, no interior door handles and hardly even enough leg room for me and I’m 5’2″ on a good day.

I was so appreciative of the cop, I told him I’d never listen to NWA again and when I asked him what his favorite slang term for police is he said “Pig”.

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