I was driving up the highway with four kilos of cocaine sewn into the faux leather seats. I was as always, going just under the speed limit. My headlights and brake lights were all in working order; blinkers, interior lights, windshield wiper blades, and plenty of windshield wiper fluid. I had a perfect driving record.
There is an old saying, that goes, if you get 5 people standing around together in North Carolina, then a Food Lion is bound to happen. One did.
The speed limit slowed down to 35 mph as the road went through a small town. I slowed accordingly. In my rear view mirror I saw far off headlights gaining on me. I stayed slow and they crept up. I could make out the undeniable shape of a Ford Crown Victoria. THE COPS. They pulled up close to my tail, shining their halogen beams. Stay cool man. I really began to sweat. What are they doing? I bet they are running the plates, right now. I should make a run for it. Relax. What would Johnny do? You’re right I thought. Do like Johnny would. Stay true.
I held the wheel steady. The headlights burned into the back of my mind. Why hadn’t they pulled me over yet? Were they taunting me? By now a line of cars had amassed. Everyone was trying hard not to get pulled over.
In the blinding lights, I saw my arrest. I saw the jailhouse confession. I saw the incompetent court appointed lawyer, and the twenty years of hard time. I lifted a lot of weights. I became a born again Christian. I even learned how to make a grilled cheese sandwich on a heating vent.
And then as the road became two lanes I saw that this wasn’t the police but simply a Ford Crown Victoria with a rooftop storage rack.