Harassed!

Had dinner in the little hamlet of Y_____ S_____ on Saturday night, and as we were leaving town an odd thing happened. I pulled out from a four-way stop and the squad car ahead of us dipped into a cross-street, paused, let us pass and then proceeded to tail us. I said to the Bride "[I] wonder what the fuck? I didn't run the stop..."

Then flashing lights! It was like the Drudge siren, but away from the cold, womb-y safety of my computer screen.

We sat for what seemed like an eternity...I was worried I would be put away for no reason, as in Kafka, but in the municipality where this was occurring I would have to share a holding tank with some moronic kid, a-reek of patchouli. Or that, Tourette's-like, I would be unable to refrain from telling Andy The Cop that I had spent the whole day eating the innards out of athsma inhalers and he was killing the groove. As it happened, he came up to the car and said:

"Hey, folks, how are we doing toni--?"

Me: "SHE'S NOT IN THE TRUNK!"

No, actually, all the customary pleasantries were exchanged and it was revealed that they were pulling over all Volvos because there had been a peeper in a "light-colored" Volvo reported on Polecat Road (not to be confused with Sparkwood and 21). The Bride said "Well, normally, you'd have done well finding this one so fast, but we were out to dinner with friends at _____. You can check with our waitress."

Andy: "Yes, well, you guys don't match the description anyway! Have a good night!"

Still: peepers in Volvos? Most Volvo owners are safely at home at 10:15, sipping oolong tea and reading the latest Atlantic. Only in Y_____ S______!