Last updated on Thursday, June 14, 2001 12:27 PM

My Stories!!
The name of my friend was changed to protect the guilty!!
By reading further, you are agreeing to the unwritten contract of never breathing a detail to my wife.  Punishable by death. (My Death) 
  10:10pm June 25 1998,
  Relieved that the day was over, I headed to the mechanics house.   On some race bike (CBR F3) with street body work, it took 20 minutes to cover 30 miles.   My 88 elephant of  a Ninja with a new chain and swing arm awaited (dreaded) my return.  Upon arrival to that magical place (Garland), I found there were four others in the driveway.  "Nelson's in the shower, he's been in there for a while now.  What are you doing tonight?" Nick asked.   Nick was a youngster, a very fast youngster with a phast bike,  but a youngster nonetheless.    "Nothing.", I responded.   "Wanna go to the races?".  "Man, I can't go on the Ninja."  "Yeah you can!" Nick urged.   "Naw,  my wife's waiting on me.", I said.  "Conchita grande!" blurted Nick.  All the Hispanic's(the other three attendee's) laughed.  I walked inside and sat down on the couch.  The Southpark tape was running, with last nights episode playing (the eternal loop).  "Kick ass!" Cartman exclaimed.   Nelson walked into the room, followed by his wife, who looked really unhappy.   "Hey Dude, how you doin??".  "Fine." I responded."  He put his shoes on and motioned towards the door.  Figures, they're fighting again.  Anyway, we walked outside to the rest of the crew.  "What are you doing tonight?  Do you have to be anywhere?"  Nelson asked.  "Not really?  but?" "well then come with us to the races!" Nelson interrupted.  "Man, I can't take the Ninja, what if something happens?  I can't get in trouble man."  "Well then just take the race bike, it's all ready to go. How is it runnin??" He asked.  "Good,  reeeeeeel good." I said.  "Well then come on!"  The bikes started up, sounding like being in a giant wasp's nest.   Pulled out of the alley and on to the road. 
  First stop was gas, fuel, very necessary should anything bad happen.  Pulled into the gas station.  Two CBR 600 F3's (Me and Chewy) an F2(Jeff, Nelson's little sister's boyfriend.), GSXR-R 750(Nick the wonder boy), and two 900RR's(Nelson's bad mutha, and Carlos' Christmas present to himself).  Nelson and I already fueled up earlier and were having some conversation about relationships, and where we were going with our lives.  You know, meaningless gas station drivel.  "Stay with Me and Nick, we're the only ones who know where we're going.   White Swan rd.  If you get lost, stop and ask for directions."  Nelson yelled over the roar, buzz, hum, noise, (insert most appropriate word). We swarmed out of the gas station, intent on doing the speed limit at least until we hit the highway.   Took Arapaho up to 75 and went southbound.  Once on the highway, cruising speed was around 105.  Traffic was still pretty heavy, it was only 10:50pm  I still had more than an hour before my wife expected me home.  Within two minutes, we had made it to the 635 EAST curly-q.  Took that at about 80mph and came out of it hard.   Knee draggin and shit.  The squid squad (Jeff, Chewy, and Carlos) was bringing up the rear and We three were out front.  Acceleration.  Forget about anything that bothers you, you don't have time to think about anything except where the next holeshot is, who is around you, what cars are changing lanes, and that one car up ahead that was braking and slowing down to get on the shoulder of the road.  Could be a flat, could be someone has to pee really bad. 
  Turned out it was a Dallas Police Officer.  Checked the rear, could not see any member of the squid squad.  Hope they could see us.  The DPO hit the lights and pulled in behind us.  Nelson looked back tapped the top of his helmet(universal motorcycle speak for "FUCK!!! COPS!!".)  Motioning for me to get Nick(who had seen the cop, dropped three gears, and was now doing around 150), Nelson slowed down (never found out why.. but I think he was trying to look after his sister's boyfriend, Jeff) and was lost from view.  About that time, I mimicked Nick, clipping 12.5k Rpm's at the shift.  Doing around 170 screaming between cars, across lanes, over hills, bridges, through dales and all that jazz.  Nick cuts across 4 lanes(a move that would piss me off if I was in a car! Well until I saw the cops giving chase.  Then I would hope the motorcycle got away) and exit's the freeway onto Garland road.  Nelson, who was right behind him looks over and give the thumbs up "get the fuck out of here" hand signal.  I had slowed to about 150, dropped two gears, and rolled on the throttle.  The front wheel came up of the ground in a smooth wheelie for about 200 feet(a move that will intimidate or piss off any police officer in any city in any state.  At any rate, I was going to put my ass at least two miles away from that cop.  Around the time Nelson took the exit, the squid squad was mobbing the DPO,  like getting passed by a swarm of angry wasps I would suppose,  I didn't see that part, but heard about five different variations of the story.   Where were we,  ok, 170 mph, weaving like mad, heart pounding, sweating profusely, and grinning my ass off I decide that three more exits should be the distance I need.  That let me off the highway at Ferguson Rd.  The traffic was backed up about a quarter mile from the exit, so I cut off a U-Haul truck. ( That guy hates my guts.)  Pull over to the shoulder and hightail it to the light.  Frantically motioned to the car that was turning right to let me go first.  One car passed, and I pulled out right behind it.
  Eighty mph to the light, which was red.  I'll stop, the cops are nowhere to be seen.  So I'm staring in my rear view mirror, BRIGHT FUCKING LIGHTS!  Closing fast.  I look both ways and run the light.   Gaining fast, some car with three lights on it, wrong, it was the squid squad.  Waved a "greetings, lets get the fuck out of here" hand signal.  Took the next right, through a residential neighborhood, and pulled in the back of a closed Texaco.  "What street is this?" I queried motioning to the 4 lane road in front of the Texaco.  "Garland Road." Came those dreaded  words from Jeff.  "You guys still with me?"  I said doubtfully, remembering my first chase.  "Well, I have court tomorrow for some tickets, Chewy is on probation, and Carlos has two warrants out for his arrest." Jeff replied.  "Go home guys, you shouldn't even be out here in the first place." I said in the most father-like tone I could muster.  I paged Nelson with the code 10-4 (a-ok), smoked a Camel, and hit the road.  The boys took of back into the residential, and I got on Garland road(first mistake) and pulled a U-Turn(second mistake).  Two minutes later I was doing 80 down Garland(with fucking traffic lights every quarter mile.) with two of the men on my ass.   Five lights I made green.  The sixth was red, my que to turn right.  Dark street, hoping that it wasn't a dead end I was  doing an optimistic 90 mph, pass some lake (might have been white rock I'm told) some liquor stores (Red Coleman's, Red -e- Mart and the like) and, looking around, I realize, "I have no idea where I am."  ?????????   Shit.  Ok. Familiar road, hmmm. Nowhere.  I have no idea, every now and then I would crest a hill and see the green building of downtown.  Pretty close actually, south is good, cops are to the north, and probably up and down I-30 looking for us.  I wonder where Nelson and Nick are (found out later that they made it to the races.).   Notice that there are still some giving chase in my rear view, bout a half mile back, over another hill, see Minyard's to my right, and check to see if this street has a big enough street sign big enough to see. 
  ABRAMS RD.  Glory fucking Hallelujah.  At the bottom of a hill too, how convenient.  Bust a left, around the bend, and lost those cops!  Around another bend, and Abrams turned into Columbia.  Familiar territory.  Take the left at the light.  Under the bridge, and check the rear.  Two more DPO's and a fucking helicopter about 90 feet off the ground.  The scariest thing I have ever seen in my life.  Didn't have his spotlight on, but could probably see me as clear as day with that heat sensor shit.  Never had this happen before.  Get on I-30 and haul ass (seriously topped out) all the way to the I-80 "this way to Terrell (nowhere)" exit.   Peel off on that, over some construction, bumps at 170 throwing me up in the air, sounded like an airplane landing every time I hit the ground.  Count six exit's, and hit the seventh.  Just so happened that there was a Kroger there.  Pulled the bike up on the porch, park it in between a coke machine (Big-K) and some fertilizer(APF 15-5-10),  Sit down on the curb smoke a cigarette and think. "Damn I'm thirsty."  25 cents left in my pocket.  Big K dawg!  Plunk in my quarter and have a Big K kola. Mmm mmm good.  Sit back down, helmet next to me, and a Harley parked on the other side of the coke machine.  Cop pulls into the parking lot.  Drive's by reeeeeeealy slow, I wave, and he drives off.  Finished my kola and headed on home.  Uneventful, doing the speed limit, taking the back way as I got into Garland, dropped of the race bike, called my wife(who, by the way, had been paging me since Midnight) and headed home on the Ninja.  Tested the Chain and Swing arm mount one last time on 635,  got home, ate some bad ass pasta, drank about 3 Pete's Wicked Ale's and lay in bed for four hours trying to get my heart rate down.  Wondering "how the hell could the helicopter have lost me?  How fast was I really going?   Was this fun or did it suck?"  
  I would never recommend or condone running from the police, it is dangerous, you could be killed, or worse, kill someone else and survive.  I happened to enjoy this situation (I'M A JUNKIE), but if I was caught, I would have been in jail, held without bail for a long time (they hold people who run, and don't let them out until court). Been fined about $5000.  And probably lost my bike. (good thing I have more!).  There is a fine line between fun, and deadly when hauling ass on a bike.  I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying not to cross it.
   Friend 6/26/98 
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