So the other night, I’m riding down the boulevard with my lil’ sis’, just cruising the streets. Now, I’m no speed demon, but I ain’t one for moving in snail time either. So when I get stuck behind drivers rolling like they’re riding Miss Daisy in their backseats, I catch road rage like a maf**ka! (Can I get an amen?)
But what do you know? That night, I get caught behind this beat-up-looking burgundy Impala doing, at most, 20 miles per hour.
After honking my horn a few times, impatient and pissed, I decided to (illegally) bypass the tinted hooptie and go on about my business. The only problem with that was that I got stuck at a red light with a car in front of me and another wagon parked on my right. So when the hood-looking whip suddenly sped up and stopped on my left side, yeah, I was pretty much trapped in.
Now, I’m from the ‘hood. Newark, NJ is were I’ve spent the majority of my life. So when a run-down hoop-ride with tinted windows pulls up beside you, the first thing that pops into mind is:
Therefore, my initial reaction was to put my shit in reverse and be OUT! Plus, as I said, my little sister was in the backseat, so I was really ready to pull a Fast 5 and dip before they pulled out the pumps and started to dump. But as I reached down and shifted gears, a bright light flashed in my face. Damn, these n***as got army guns, I thought to myself before I glanced over, only to realize that the prospective shooters were cops. (Still prospective shooters, but I was no longer worried about getting carjacked or f**ked up just for the sake of it. Well, come to think of it…)
After realizing the jacked-up Impala was a trio of narcs, I’m thinking: What the hell is this? Now, I knew I was in a rough neighborhood, on a horrible block, filled with drug-slingers and fiends galore, so there were always cops stationed on the Ave. However, all the undercover cop cars that I was used to seeing were always plain colors like black, white and grey—that beat-up burgundy shit threw me allllllllll the way off! This is what the hell I get for driving like a maniac, only to end up at a freakin’ red light.
Anyway, with my car still ready for takeoff in reverse, I heard the officer sitting in the passenger’s seat ask, “Why did you just speed past us like that?”
“Because you weren’t doing the speed limit,” I replied candidly as I looked at him, squinting from the super-bright light the driving officer had beaming in my face.
“The speed limit is 25. We were doing the speed limit. Pull over,” he demanded weakly as he pointed to the right side of the road.
“But why are you guys flashing that bright light in my face?” I shot back, trying to distract him from actually pulling me over AND really mad as hell about his overzealous partner shining that bright ass light in my face. (My eyes see stars every time I think about that trauma. Scarred for life.)
“Because you just made an illegal pass and we need to get a good look at you,” the passenger cop replied.
“Oh, okay. Thank you,” I said real sweet and slick as I rearranged my gear to “drive” and slowly took off, just waiting for those flashing lights to pop out and that “whoop, whoop” to sound. But as a crawled down the street like a granny, they snakily slugged behind without the threat of a side-street pull-over. This slow trail lasted for a couple blocks until 5-O got caught at a red light and I was able to turn off the boulevard.
As soon as they were out of sight, I threw on some Pac, rolled down my window and yelled out:
I couldn’t help but laugh, I had handled that sh*t like a real G…
Who the hell am I kidding?
My punk ass crept all the rest of the way home. I even made sure I walked up to my front door at a decent speed. I done got four more tickets since my last cop story; those fake ass narcs were NOT catching me for no bullshit that night!
Moral of the day: before you illegally pass a slow driver riding on a city block, look, stop, and make sure it’s not a car full of undercover cops.