By Stephen Sanzeri
It was the middle of December back in 1984, and the rain was pouring down. I was working swing-shift and about to go off-duty, which made me glad because those wool uniform pants shrink like crazy when wet. I wasn’t going to make a traffic stop unless it was totally necessary.
I was working “Charlie” beat, which I never really liked. It was mostly industrial businesses and hotels, and not much happened out there. Sometimes I avoided boredom by watching the planes arriving into the airport or sneaking up on some teenagers that were parked by the bay. But, what happened on the way to the station I couldn’t have made up.
I was making one last check on my beat and noticed a sedan parked with its engine and lights on. I didn’t want to stop, but it was a long walk to a phone booth if the driver needed help.
As my cover unit arrived, I approached the sedan. The driver was accelerating and wasn’t going anywhere. The rear differential was hung up on some rocks. I knocked on the window, and the driver locked the doors and accelerated more. “Shut off your engine,” I commanded loudly.
The driver looked at me and floored it. He thought he was going to speed away, so, I decided to have a little fun. I started running in-place next to him. He pushed on the accelerator and I ran faster. The driver looked forward and then to me - forward and to me and continued accelerating, and I kept running. Then, the rear tire blew out.
Realizing he wasn’t going anywhere, the driver finally shutoff the engine. “Thought I was seeing things,” the man said, as I cuffed him. “With as much booze as you drank tonight,” I said, “you probably were.” This speed racer was taken into custody for DUI.
