Ride in a Police Car

04  Ride in a Police Car   First Edit 2/29  10 AM

I turned and shuffled my way back down Lea Avenue towards Middletown Road. Mr. Gooder was still mowing his lawn with that old reel lawn mower. It was a nice day. It had warmed up from the chill of the morning as the sun rose higher in the sky. It was a cloudless day. The sun warmed up this maroon CPO quickly. I was starting to sweat a bit so I unbuttoned it.

I got to Middletown Road and looked both ways. There was no sign of cars, so I started across the road. There is a small hill to my left that limited sight, and sure enough, a car came flying over it with me smack in the middle. The driver leaned on his horn and slammed on his brakes, stopping about fifteen feet away from me. He rolled his window down.

“What in the hell do you think you're doing, you old coot! You're gonna get killed or get somebody killed! Get the hell out of the road!” he screamed.

“Go pound salt!” I hollered back as I continued on across.

“I'm calling the cops!” he yelled.

“For what? Walking?” I hollered. But he couldn't hear me. He floored it and sped off up Middletown Road.

Damn kids are always in a hurry. Why don't they just leave five minutes earlier and take their time to get where they're going? Life would be less stressful for them. And for me. Geezus.

I heard a car approaching. I stuck my thumb out. The car sped on by. Did he actually speed up? Probably. Damn kids. I heard another coming my way. I stuck my thumb out. The car pulled over. Oh shit, it's a cop. He opened the door and got out and walked towards me slowly.

“Where you headed, old timer?” he asked kindly.

“Down to the village,” I answered.

“We had a call that you were in the middle of the road and almost got hit by a car.”

“Well, sir, I was crossing the road and this damn kid came flying over that hill over there. He had to be going eighty miles and hour. I was moving as fast as I could and...”

“What's your name, sir?” he asked politely.

“Dave Gibson,” I responded.

“Well Mr. Gibson, do you think you should be crossing main highways like this then?”

“Well, like the chicken, I needed to get to the other side,” I said. Then I smiled a little to let him know I was messing with him a little.

The officer looked at me and chuckled.

“Do you have any ID?” he asked.

“'Bout whut,” I said in the stupidest voice I could muster.

The officer's smile vanished.

“Sorry. I have an odd sense of humor,” I said as I pulled out my wallet. I fished out my identification card and handed it to him.

“This is a Florida ID,” said the officer.

“I just moved here,” I answered. “From Florida.”

He looked it over and handed it back.

“Hop in and I'll give you a ride,” he said.

“Am I being arrested?” I asked with some alarm in my voice.

“No sir. You did nothing wrong. But I don't need anyone getting hit on my shift.”

“Oh. Well, thank you officer,” I replied.

“Too much paperwork,” he said with a smile as he opened a back door to his cruiser.

“I have to ride in the back?” I asked.

“Regulations sir.”

I hopped in. Well, not exactly hopped. I sort of fell in. With that fence between the front and back seats, there isn't a whole lot of room left over. The officer shut my door and then walked around to the driver's side and got in.

“Nice car,” I said.

“Yeah, we got new Fords last year,” he replied. “The three old Fords were shot. Where too, Mr. Gibson?”

“What year is this car?” I asked.

“2017. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Just curious. I live in Van Schoonhoven Square.”

“Sure, I'll drop you off. How long have you been living there?” the officer asked.

“A couple of months. I haven't been getting out much. First it was snow and icy sidewalks, and then it rained a lot,”

“How do you like it there?” he asked.

“It's fine. Not what I'm used too, but it is fine for just me.”

The officer pulled into the road to Van Schoonhoven and stopped around the back where the main entrance is. I reached for the door handle. There wasn't one. The officer had gotten out of his car and opened my door.

“Thank you,” I said. “That was very kind of you to give me a ride.”

“Not a problem sir. Now you stay out of trouble and stay off the roads, OK?” he said.

“You bet. Say... can I have your name?” I asked.

“It's Officer Boyd. Why do you ask?”

“So if I get in trouble, I can ask for you,” I said with a smile and a wink.

The officer laughed.

“You have yourself a good day, Mr. Gibson,” he said with a laugh.

As he pulled away, I gave him a wave. I shuffled up to the front door. As I walked in, there was Mrs. Schiocetti, the senior center's busy body. She had to know everything.

“Why hello Mr. Gibson,” she said as she hit the handicapped button that opened the door.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Schiocetti,” I answered. Here it comes.

“Why were you riding in the back of the police car?” she asked bluntly.

“I was picked up for mischief,” I answered.

“Mischief?” she asked.

“Yep. I was ringing doorbells and running away,” I said with a smirk.

Mrs. Schiocetti scowled.

I walked down the hall to my door, unlocked it, and walked in and shut the door behind me.

I hung up the CPO. Hold on. This is my jacket. I felt and there was my hat. I walked into the living room and sat down. What just happened? It had to be a reaction to some drug I'm taking. I need to call my doctor and tell him what happened. No. What if he has me Baker Acted? No, he can't. New York State doesn't have a Baker Act. I wonder if they have something similar? Probably. And they probably tax it too.

This little apartment is sure a come down from places I've lived before. This isn't as big as the first apartment my first wife and I had. Swallow your pride. Pride goeth before a fall. I wonder what that even means? I don't know but it doesn't sound good.

I picked up my laptop and booted it. Up came all the tabs on my browser that I had open from before. Outlook, Yahoo Mail, two for Facebook, one for CNN, one for Amazon, another for InstaCart. I opened a new tab and typed “pride goeth before a fall” in the address bar.

“The highway of the upright leads away from evil; he who guards his way protects his life. Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. It is better to be lowly in spirit among the humble than to divide the spoil with the proud.”

Huh. From the Bible, I guess. One of those proverbs. I started to read the Bible once.

I think I'll go to Don & Paul's for lunch.