Hmm, well the car was still rolling when I put my hands up.

There was an eerie thing about the way the 944 was running because she never cuts off, but just when I would have had to put my hands back in and shut her off, she stalled.

Perfect . 
Six cop cars, two cops a piece in each car. They wanted me to get out and were getting riled up thinking I wasn't complying. I had a 4-point harness on which made it difficult to peel out of the bucket seat, especially with no hands. Since my phone happened to die, I had to convince one of the cops to use my Instagram sticker on the side of my car and follow me!

I remembered seeing an old piece of shit Crown Victoria sliding sideways around the corner coming to get me with lights blaring and a siren creating ten times the disturbance than I probably did with my shenanigans. Either way, Sir Drifts-a-lot was my only hope for getting home to feed my puppy and not get ten warning shots in the ass cheek. 

"Hey guys we're done here. This fucking thing has an anti-lag launch control that sounds like an AK47..."

"Hey, which one of you guys was in that cruiser 232 right there?"

Sir drifts a lot revealed himself with a short and smug "ME."

"Yo man that was dope, I saw that big boat sideways around that corner — I'm impressed; those cars are a pain to drive."

He responded with a chuckle and a fist bump.

Fist bump?

I made a friend, and he had some striped shit on his sleeve, maybe someone with a high rank? They're searching my car and find the usual things — screwdrivers, sockets, Bubbalicious (don't judge me), and other assorted ghetto Porsche fixing tools but found no gun. Then it was on to the pat down and the asking where the gun is forty times as if during any of those times after the first, my answer would change. Mister Drift started looking around my car, staring at the polished CCW rear barrels in awe.

“Hey how'd you fit such a wide wheel under the car? Are these flared fenders?” 
I was awestruck with the realization that the drift king of Newark PD was a car guy! Good, I got your ass now!

"Yeah they're flares you can actually see how the car looked without them on Instagram, the before and after pictures are there…" pointing to my instagram sticker on my rear quarter panel. After a couple seconds, he goes;

"Hey guys we're done here. This fucking thing has an anti-lag launch control that sounds like an AK47, he doesn't have shit in that car if you haven't found it already."

No jail? No calling Al Sharpton to protect me from this injustice? Shit. I want to hug you right now drift piggy. They all just shuffled back to their car, almost disappointed that they're shooter was a 944 and no one was dead in the street.

No body bags, no jail time; just a bad ass 944, some fire balls, and one of my greatest cop encounters yet.


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