Michael's Car Driving Follies (I've been tagged)

1. In high school when I needed a break from homework, I would take my Civic out and race it through the hills around Skyline Drive. That's where those brakes and tires went, dad. I thought I was the real Michael Andretti.

2. My friend Amanda and I used to follow people in their cars (that we knew from school but who didn't know it was us) until they would either freak out because they were being followed or play a car version of tag (also, that's where those tires and brakes went).

3. When Amanda got her new car with 4-wheel drive, we took it out into a muddy construction lot and played in the mud until her car got stuck. So her mom wouldn't find out, we first called a friend with a Jeep and a wench. When that didn't work, we called AAA, and they pulled her out. The car was covered with mud (inside and out), so at about 1:00 am, we went to the car wash and tried to spray all of the mud off. For months after that, every so often we'd be driving along and clumps of dirt would fall off and bounce behind the car. Her mom never found out (as far as I know).

4. One day after a choir concert, I went to Del Taco with James, Amber, and Amanda. We went inside to order the food. Amber and I were the first ones to finish, so we took Amanda's keys, and I got into the driver's seat, and Amber took shotgun. Amanda and James then came out, and she sat behind me, and James behind Amber. We pulled out of the parking lot onto Rose (my license was still provisional, meaning I wasn't supposed to have passengers in the car with me while driving) and the light was red at Imperial. While we were waiting for the light to change, James suggested we open the doors and let them close themselves as we accelerated. The light turned green, I floored it, the doors shut, and then the sirens turned on and the lights flashed in my rear-view mirror. The cop came up to my (the driver's) window, asked me what I was thinking. I said something dumb, and then he asked whose car it was. I pointed at Amanda, and after questioning her at her window, asked her to step out of the car. The cop gave her two options: either take a $100 ticket or he would call her mom. She didn't want either, and managed to talk her way out of both. She said, "I'm a good girl, I get good grades and I'm a Girl Scout, and he's a good guy, he's Mormon, and a Boy Scout..." She was out there with him for what seemed like forever, but it worked, and none of our parents ever found out (until now). We went back to my house, we walked in the door, and we all hugged each other and fell on the floor with relief. It seemed so bad when I was 17.

5. Landon, Alan, and I used to call ourselves the Citizens Auxiliary Police. Landon had a stupid red flashing light that plugged into the cigarette lighter. We would wait by obscure stop signs for people to blow through them. When they did, we would plug in the light and chase them down until they stopped. We would then give them a friendly reminder not to blow through stop signs in obscure places. (I can't believe I'm telling this.) Luckily, the real "po-po" never caught us.

6. Another time, Landon, Alan, and me were driving by the Church late at night, and we noticed a car parked in the back of the parking lot. Being the Citizens Auxiliary Police force, we decided to check it out. We drove back there, and realized that the windows were a little foggy. At that point, we became the Morality Police. I parked my car along side the questionable one, forcing the guy in the other car to hop out with his pants around his ankles. He cursed, I sped away, and proceeded to call our colleagues, the real police. Two cop cars showed up, but we didn't realize that the perpetrators had sneeked out. For a while, we thought something was going down in the parking lot, but we didn't want to go back there and find out while the cops were still doing their thing (for fear that they might think we, the Morality Police, were also up to no good), so we drove around to the back side of the parking lot where there was an ally connecting it to one of the other side streets. We couldn't see the cops from there, so we made Alan jump a fence (trespass), and see what was up. It was then that we realized the cops were just chatting and there was nothing going down. We then went home and watched a movie or something.

7. One time I was driving fast down Yorba Linda Boulevard late at night (Robyn knows this one), and apparently it was fast enough to make a cop car do a complete 180 at full speed. Luckily, I saw him and slammed on my breaks before he could get a good look at my speed. I am so glad that when the cops scanned my plates, it said (Uncle) Honda and not 17-year-old Michael Johnson.

At the request of Devon, I tag him. He asked for it, so he can have it. These are the confessions of a reformed (somewhat) 22-year-old. I still drive fast, but I definitely keep the doors closed all the time.