As soon as I started walking up the ramp, a shiny white Lincoln Continental Town Car pulled over to scoop me off the road. As soon as I got in the passenger seat, Jack, the driver pointed at the floor in front of me to a case of cold beer on ice. He said, “Help your self. It’s afternoon, so, it’s OK.” I had a beer at lunch and another seemed like a fine idea on a warming afternoon. No sooner had I popped off the top, Jack went on to get his car running at over 110 MPH. He flicked a switch on his steering wheel, looked over, smiled and added, “This baby’s got cruise control, All we got to do is sit back and enjoy the ride. He even lifted his feet off the floor and assumed a crossed legged sitting position.” He seemed comfortable and in control as we zoomed down the Interstate quickly passing everything in our way. It took only an instant to eclipse two State Troopers setting up a radar on a tripod next to the highway. In that fleeting instant I saw one of the troopers jump up, grab his Smokey the Bear hat with both hands, and click his heels. We continued to race away at over 110. It was almost as if Jack did not notice.
I was amazed at how quickly two Ford Interceptor police cruisers caught up with us. Jack quickly complied with there motion to pull over. He stayed in the driver’s seat, as one of the Troopers walked up to the window and politely asked to see some ID and registration. The first piece of ID Jack flashed was his ATF agent Identification. The officer glanced at it and stated, “You may well be an Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Agent, but you still cannot be cruising on my highway, drinking your beers at over a hundred miles and hour.” Jack was apologetic and all three of the officers of the law soon were engaging in conversation, and exchanging police stories. It seemed the air was lightening up and we were probably going to be allowed on our way. As yet, neither of the officers had focused on me. Soon the effects of drinking a couple of beers surfaced and I needed to take a leak. Maybe being slightly under the influence compromised my judgment, But I thought it a good idea to get out of the car, climb up a slight rise away from the highway, keep my back turned and relieve myself. In the middle of this process, I heard a shout, “What the hell do you think your doing?” I finished, zipped up, turned around and replied, “Sorry, I just had to take a leak.” “Don’t you know there are women and children going by out here. Let’s see some ID.” I couldn’t argue with him, there were women and children going by my turned back. I walked down and produced my ID. Upon checking he discovered they had apprehended an Army deserter. Quickly they figured this was a more important matter than dealing with one of their comrades in arms who was acting slightly indiscreet. I waved goodbye to Jack as they escorted me to their cruiser and took me to their local jail.
I was placed in a holding cell and notified that an FBI officer was being summoned from Cleveland. I thought, “Wow, an FBI agent coming all the way from Cleveland, I must be in lots of trouble.” Within an hour, a agent arrived, explained to the officers holding me that under the provisions of amnesty, I could not be held and got me released. He offered me a ride to his hometown of Cleveland TN, not that far away. Before letting me go he bought me a meal and suggested that I report to Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis and settle my matters with the Army. If not, he explained I would likely continue to be hassled if I was going to be hitchhiking around, since not all officers were aware of amnesty provisions. He was pleasant and convincing and when he let me out I decided to continue as far as Chattanooga, sleep on it and decide whether or not to turn back to the frigid north.
I was amazed at how quickly two Ford Interceptor police cruisers caught up with us. Jack quickly complied with there motion to pull over. He stayed in the driver’s seat, as one of the Troopers walked up to the window and politely asked to see some ID and registration. The first piece of ID Jack flashed was his ATF agent Identification. The officer glanced at it and stated, “You may well be an Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Agent, but you still cannot be cruising on my highway, drinking your beers at over a hundred miles and hour.” Jack was apologetic and all three of the officers of the law soon were engaging in conversation, and exchanging police stories. It seemed the air was lightening up and we were probably going to be allowed on our way. As yet, neither of the officers had focused on me. Soon the effects of drinking a couple of beers surfaced and I needed to take a leak. Maybe being slightly under the influence compromised my judgment, But I thought it a good idea to get out of the car, climb up a slight rise away from the highway, keep my back turned and relieve myself. In the middle of this process, I heard a shout, “What the hell do you think your doing?” I finished, zipped up, turned around and replied, “Sorry, I just had to take a leak.” “Don’t you know there are women and children going by out here. Let’s see some ID.” I couldn’t argue with him, there were women and children going by my turned back. I walked down and produced my ID. Upon checking he discovered they had apprehended an Army deserter. Quickly they figured this was a more important matter than dealing with one of their comrades in arms who was acting slightly indiscreet. I waved goodbye to Jack as they escorted me to their cruiser and took me to their local jail.
I was placed in a holding cell and notified that an FBI officer was being summoned from Cleveland. I thought, “Wow, an FBI agent coming all the way from Cleveland, I must be in lots of trouble.” Within an hour, a agent arrived, explained to the officers holding me that under the provisions of amnesty, I could not be held and got me released. He offered me a ride to his hometown of Cleveland TN, not that far away. Before letting me go he bought me a meal and suggested that I report to Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis and settle my matters with the Army. If not, he explained I would likely continue to be hassled if I was going to be hitchhiking around, since not all officers were aware of amnesty provisions. He was pleasant and convincing and when he let me out I decided to continue as far as Chattanooga, sleep on it and decide whether or not to turn back to the frigid north.
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