Impounded by the Ginger Nazi

If you had an acne problem, a Wintergreen Kodiak habit, a gun, and a shiny new City of St. Anthony badge, and you spotted a curly haired giant driving a rusted out ’87 Dodge Dynasty with a bad muffler, what would be going through your mind?

The correct answer, kids? “Revenue.”

I got pulled over driving to my girlfriend’s house on Larpenteur just past 280 last night. It was about 12:30, and I wasn’t drunk; just a couple of madeiras at the 112 after checking out my buddy Henry Phillips at Acme. But when Richie Cunningham pulled me over, I still got that burst of adrenaline that comes along with the new .08 law. My girlfriend is a biochemistry grad student, so while Opie was back in his prowler running my bar code, she reassured me that my glucose levels were probably fine. But I still babbled a bit when firecrotch asked me for my license and my proof of insurance. I even muttered something about “going to Costa Rica” as I handed it over. I wasn’t drunk, but I must have volunteered my travel plans because my impending Costa Rica trip is the reason I’ve been draggin’ my feet transferin’ the Dodge’s title and updatin’ the IN-surance policy. (My WBL roots are showing…again.)

And this information popped up on Ginger’s onboard computer right away.

He came back to my window with his nightstick and a more pronounced drawl. Another fly in the trap, cooter!

“Sir, would you mind comin’ back and talkin’ to me for a minute?”

He didn’t want to make me stand on my toes or count my ABC’s backwards–the man wanted to talk finance. He asked me to get into the back of the squad on account of the wind. Ok. Not a lot of leg room in these fuckers though.

“It says here the policy was cancelled for non-payment on the 19th. Were you aware that the car is uninsured, sir?”

“Not really,” I kind of lied.

“Can I call your mother at this hour?”

“Sure,” I sighed.

“Will she answer the phone this late?”

“If you keep trying.”

He got ahold of her on the second go. “M’am, this is St. Anthony Police, and I have your son here…” I could hear my mother worrying through the cop’s cell phone. After she told him the good Catholic truth, he told her he would be issuing her a ticket for allowing me to drive her car without insurance (even at 30, I’m still an awful son). Then he told me that he would have to impound the, no, no, I’m sorry, sir, I’m aware that you’re only two blocks from your destination, but I can’t, it’s city policy. It’s okay. I get it. The insurance company octopus has managed to choke the fair city of St. Anthony’s good sense and autonomy. It’s 2007. And everybody needs to make a buck.

At least he gave us a ride home.

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12 Responses

  1. Since when do you have a girlfriend?

  2. Yeah? Who is she?

  3. yes, spit it out Marsh.

  4. You guys are missing the whole point of the blog. Can you stop thinking about my sex appeal for one minute, and concentrate on the writing? Sheesh.

    I’ll give you one little hint though: look up “Wahhabism” on wikipedia.

  5. you told me *less than a week ago* that you were single.

  6. larp and 280 is where the cities of st. anthony & falcon heights pay their rent.

    you were pulled over for driving a shit heap in their rarified air. happens every fucking day, dude.

  7. Jesus, your blog is like the siren call for the desperate. What’s going on up there in Minneapolis, running low on slovenly hipsters with barely concealed contempt for themselves and women? Your mother’s a saint and so is your girl, just don’t let her hit you anymore. Remember: love doesn’t equal bruises. I told you not to drive. Bad things happen.

  8. haha. your mom got a ticket and it’s all your fault.

  9. As an aside, I’m tickled to see the Starsky + Cox link added to your blogroll. However, I’m still pissed that Vlog Santa is in your Top Friends on Myspace but I’ve mysteriously disappeared from the fold.

  10. Nice post. Of course, the only IMPORTANT information is that you are going to Costa RIca….or may have already went (considering the date of the post).

    Kudos to you. I LOVED Costa Rica. If you head to Manuel Antonio watch out for the monkeys…they can get a little too friendly.

  11. Definitely still got some Whiskey Tango roots from the White Bear Lake. I grew up in a trailer and I’ve got my automobile documents straightend out.

    Like the blog though.

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