Hot Pursuit

Have you ever lied to your parents about your whereabouts, only to have the situation go so horribly wrong that you can almost hear your own eulogy? The lie actually tasted bad coming out of my mouth. “Yes, dad I’m only going to downtown West Palm Beach”.   I wasn’t the kind of kid that lied to my parents. Well not until I got a new car from my dad, and he suddenly adopted the belief that the only safe streets were the ones in my own neighborhood.    I was practically forced to lie, or else I would never get to drive anywhere other than school and work. 

I told my dad that I wouldn’t be too late and headed out. (That would be lie numero dos).   It was my senior year of high school, I felt like an adult, and downtown West Palm was sooo not adult.  Every high school kid in Palm Beach County frequented that area, and I felt like I was ready for bigger and better things….  


 I picked up my best friend Tiffany and we changed into our "real outfits" in the car before getting on the highway. (I know most girls know all about changing in the car, because if your parents saw what kind of sluty get-up you were really going to wear, you would be grounded for life.)

We were headed to this club in Fort Lauderdale called Baja. Those of you reading who know of this place, I will give you a second to stop cringing.  This club was advertised all the time on the radio stations, and sounded so awesome, plus a few people that we knew had been there and said that they weren’t so strict with the ID’s.  Now- a -days there is NO WAY I would go to a club that wasn’t “Strict” with ID’s, but back then that phrase was music to my ears.

We got into the club without incident, and proceeded to gyrate, and grind until the club closed.  It was 1998 and we shook our asses to such classics like “there’s some hoe’s in the house”, “shake that ass bitch and let me see what you got”, and let’s not forget the grandfather of all booty songs, Uncle Luke’s “Scarred”.   We left the club at 4am, covered in sweat, and reeking of spilled alcohol.  The sight of us would have done our parents proud. 

I was already calculating the probability of my dad grounding me.  I lived about an hour or so away from Baja, and I still had to take Tiffany home.  Oh well, I was already 

in trouble, and it wasn't like I could get into more trouble at this point, so I didn't worry about it.


I got onto I-95 and start the incredibly long journey back home.  I looked into the rearview mirror and commented to Tiffany that there was another set of headlights a ways behind me, and at least we weren’t the only people on the road at this hour.  I looked at the time, and then back into the rearview just in time to see the other pair of headlights slam into the back of my brand new car.  

We screamed, but I didn’t lose control of the car, we were okay and still driving, I slowed down, and started to pull off to the shoulder, when I saw the car fly by me.   I became incensed.

Me- “That mother fucker hit my new car, and now he’s trying to escape!”

Tiffany- “Oh my god, what do we do”

Me- “We fucking catch him, that’s what”

I immediately slam down on my gas pedal and my car shoots up to 100 miles an hour.  It might help if I mention that daddy had bought me a Camaro.  As I chase this guy on I-95 I pull out my cellphone and dial 911.

911- What’s your emergency?

Me- This son of a bitch just ran into the back of my car on 95 and is trying to run away

911- Is everyone okay? Do you need an ambulance?

Me- Yes were fine, I’m chasing the guy now, we are northbound passing Linton Blvd

911- Mam, you’re chasing who?

Me- The guy who hit me! He’s is trying to get away. You guys better hurry up.

I stayed on the phone with the 911 operator the entire way giving her turn by turn updates on my hot pursuit.   I followed this guy to his home. That’s right his home.  He pulled into the driveway and I jumped out of my car like a mad woman swearing at him, as about six cop cruisers pulled in lights and sirens blaring. 


 Now I want you to take a moment and picture the scene.  Its 4:30am, we are in a gated community, and I am dressed like a prostitute screaming at this man for hitting my car…as we are surrounded by police cars...  Exactly, a hot fucking mess.

Bet you can’t guess what happens next…  The police inspect the front of his vehicle, and don’t see a freaking scratch.  Apparently I had chased down the wrong vehicle. 


I wanted to fucking die right at that moment.   I point my finger at the cop and say that,  somebody hit my car and ran away, and that they had to find him.  I’m sure that hit and runs happened all the time, but this was my first.... everything.  My first car, my first accident, my first hit and run, my first car chase… in my head the situation was so much more important than it  was in real life.  I half expect the helicopters with search lights to fly around looking for this person who hit me.

The cop began to tell me that there was nothing he could do, when a call came in that someone had reported being involved in an accident.  The caller could not recall if they had hit someone, or had been hit.  The cop tells us to follow him to the scene, so we do. 

At the scene there is this Dodge Neon that is smashed up on the side of the road. The driver was on a stretcher as he was highly intoxicated and severely hurt.   The police officers checked the paint on the back of my car and it matched his car, so there it was...case solved.    

Only thing was that it was now 6am, and my dad was going to murder me, I had done so much wrong that he could murder me twice. (Kind of like a double life sentence).
 I eventually called my dad and told him the story minus, the part about being in Fort Lauderdale, being in a real club,  and my high-speed chase on I-95.   He told me to come home immediately, and asked if I was okay.. 


I thought I was so slick , and maybe able to get away with it, until he asked for a copy of the police report  so he could  call insurance. .. Apparently they have to put location of accident on the report..as well as my statement which specifically mentioned clubbing in Fort Lauderdale.... yes I was grounded until I graduated.