As Chuck said we are living in different times. When I was at the University (the first time) I, along with two friends, decided we’d make a liquor run to Evanston. We took the one friend’s car, a yellow Vega, and took off. We bought several “variety” boxes of hooch, plus an assortment of fireworks (why go to Wyoming and not pick up fireworks?) and headed back to Salt Lake. The guy driving was not drinking, but I and the other guy couldn’t resist having our happy-hour a little early. Then the fun started. We started hanging out the driver-side window of the Vega (I know, I couldn’t get in the back seat of one, now, much less hang out the window) and throwing bottle rockets from the car. People driving in the on-coming lanes of the freeway were not impressed and someone pulled over where there was a phone handy and called the cops. Remember, no cell phones, no CDs, we had an 8-track in the car. It wasn’t long and a Highway Patrol officer pulled us over. He was a Navajo. It happened he was from Blanding, originally, and all of us kids had grown up in Moab. We kind of hit it off. He was cool and let us go with a ticket….each of us got a ticket. He gave the driver a ticket because we were carrying alcohol and he hadn’t tried to stop us from being such jerks. That’s what he said. He gave me and the other guy a ticket for obvious reasons. He took the booze and the fireworks. The Highway Patrol, probably, had a great Christmas party that year. Anyway, we all had to go back to the county seat, Coalville, to pay the tickets. The cop told us we had to pay them in person. We couldn’t all arrange to go back at the same time because of our different schedules. I drove up to Coalville in my ’69 Bug (I had a portable 8-track in it) to pay a visit to the local JP. I went to the courthouse and was told the JP was remodeling his kitchen with his son-in-law. The people at the courthouse gave me his address and I was told he was expecting me. When I got to his place, sure enough, they were remodeling the kitchen. They had arranged a couple of sawhorses with a piece of plywood on top of them for a makeshift table. They had torn everything else out. The JP approached the makeshift table, moved some junk aside and proceeded to pound on the table (with his claw hammer that he had pulled out of his tool belt) stating that “this court is now in session”. I thought I was in Mayberry. The JP then gave me a lecture about how he could bring us all up on charges for interstate transportation of alcohol with intent to sell. I assured him we had planned to consume all the alcohol ourselves and gave as my defense the fact that two of us had started almost immediately to achieve that goal and that’s why I was in Coalville. He liked my defense, but said he would have to levy a fairly stiff fine. I thought, ‘here it comes’. He charged me 25 bucks with an assurance from me that I would never do any thing as stupid as that ever again. I know times have changed. Dave On Nov 6, 2011, at 3:47 PM, Chuck Hards wrote:
Steve: Thanks! All's well that ends well. And I finally got the one that got away! :-)
I have had ZERO tickets since that day, long ago. I learned my lesson! Besides, the RX-8 is ticket-proof. Hehehehe...
Joe: Remember the movie "Vanishing Point"?
Jay: Mid-to-late 40's does NOT grant you "old fart" status. A few more years, kid. ;-)
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