To be young is to be sad is to be high.
June 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
“Smile, your on tv”
We had been through Idaho, Wyoming, South Dakota, Kanas and into Iowa before we saw the blue lights in our mirrors for the first time. It might have been the broken tail-light from when Rosey was drunk in Wyoming, it might have been the cracked rear window from the bar keeper in Omaha who didn’t think we were paying our tab fast enough, it may, and probably was, the fact Rosey was in the process of throwing up out of the passenger side window. That strange fizzy pale green sick you get when the last 72 hours were made up of nothing up Tequila, cigerettes and being awake. I think we were on Route30, 220 street, near Perry, Quebec route, somewhere near there. I was aware of the car 30 seconds before the blue sirens flashed across our car. It was around 1.35am. I noticed the it, she pulled her head into the car. The site of a police car will drop that strange mix of fear of authority into the blood of even the innocent man, imagine what it did to a man whos boot was full of cocaine and unregistered guns and his partner was a mess with dinner plates for eyes. We looked at each other. A look that said “Fuck it, here we go, I mean it this time, death or glory, we have torn a whole in four states, four is a shit number to be stopped at, it isn’t even five ( for those of you unfamiliar with the basics of counting. You only live once. Life is too short. Regret what you do not what you don’t do. And every other pissy shitty cliche that makes it onto birthday cards and t-shirts and morons facebook statues throughtout the land.” It wasn’t a long look despite the script. I looked forward. Gripped the wheel, and slowly pushed down on the accleorator. The engine noise built up with my heartbeat and the nose of the car started to point up. The lack of sleep was suppressing the fact that I knew the jag was old and the police car was probably well maintained with a quicker engine. It didn’t matter for now. We were straight lining it. Rosey put on her seat belt for the first time on the trip and we roared into 90mph. The car gave chase on. In the corner of my eye I saw Rosey reach under her seat and slip two shells into the barrel of the shotgun and put two more into her mouth. This shit was going to get serious. She clicked the saftey off. 100mph. The sirens kick in. We pull out around a car into on coming traffic the car in front in about 5 seconds away, I hold it in that lane for 3 just to show the cops I mean business. 110mph, I didn’t even know this car could go this fast. Rosey leans out the window. Before I can stop her she fires a clean slug into the night sky. I don’t think the cop was expecting it. He slows up and gives us more room. He stays close all the same. Rosey tucks back into the car. We take another car with an eratic swerve. Assistance must be on it’s way after the shot. We didn’t have much time to loose the car. They had the horsepower on us, but they didn’t have the crazy. “Hold on” I told her. I span the wheel towards the dark roadside, the back kicked out and the cop followed us. We bounced off the road side and onto the grass. Jags weren’t built for this. The cop started to shoot low for the tires. Rosey put another slug into the sky to try and discourage him. Then we hit the grass verge bounced up over the wall and onto the green of a golf club. The police car followed. Both were in bad shape. The tires were struggling to put the power it had on the road down on the short grass. We started to spin in the dark and clipped the side of a bunker. ( more to follow.)