Bad Boy, Bad Boy, What Ya Gonna Do?

Dallas PD 1974

My time with my car was coming to an end.  It was cheap, and it ran for a while.  I could get by without a heater or air conditioning, but now it was starting to stall out at the worst possible time.  It had been a nice car at one time but mechanically neglected, and now it was going to have to go away.  The final decision to end our time together came when it stalled out and almost launched my youngest son, Jeff, through the windshield.  He had a set of black eyes that he acquired from jumping up and down on his bed and cracking his head on the headboard.  Twice.  They were just starting to fade out a little, and now he catapulted into the dashboard when the car stalled.  And, of course,  he hit his head again.

I had taken Jeff to the emergency room the second time that he hit his head on the bed.  That was a big mistake.  He had a set of black eyes from cracking his head on it the first time.  He was a wild little kid.  I was treated like a child beater in the emergency room.  I couldn't believe it.  I had to talk to cops, social workers, doctors, you name it, they were there for me to talk to.  They interviewed both kids.  Finally, they believed me.  Maybe because Jeff was running around the ER like he was possessed and not minding, as was usually the case.  I was not taking him back with a new set of black eyes that I knew he would get from hitting the dashboard.

I saw an ad in the newspaper for a 1974 VW Beetle.  It was a new car.  It was at a dealership, so I decided to go look at it.  It was a four-speed, no problem, I could drive it.  And it was orange outside and black inside.  I loved it.  I bought it; it was the easiest thing I had ever done—no down payment, cheap car payments that I could afford.  I left the dealership in my new car.  It was so much fun to drive it.  I had taken half a day off to get it, and I didn't tell anyone what I was doing.

I went and picked my kids up from daycare.  They were so excited about the car.  They claimed their own spots.  Glen sat in the backseat, and Jeff sat in the little cubby spot in the back.  We went home, and I called Mary and told her I would pick her up and go eat somewhere.

She was so surprised when she saw me in the new car.  I don't remember where we went to eat.  Since the kids were there, more than likely, it was McDonald's or Burger King.  We ate our food, and then we rode around Dallas.  It was so nice to have a decent car.  It didn't have air conditioning, but in 1974 not a lot of cars did have it.  I could put $4.00 of gas in it, and it was full, and I could drive it about 450 miles before I had to add gas.  It was great.

I would park it across the street from work to see it and look at it lovingly during the day.  A car to me has always been freedom.  I spent a large part of my life having to walk everywhere and not hop in a car and go where I wanted to.  Now I could. And I would.

I was still dating France.  It was all on my terms, and I just didn't like going out all the time.  When we were together, he took me to very nice places, and we always had a nice time.  I liked being alone.  I liked being around my kids and doing it without interference from anyone.  And I liked looking at guys.  Looking didn't hurt anything, right?

I was driving home from work one afternoon down Military Rd.  Or maybe it was Military Pkwy.  I saw a cop car a few cars back and lowered my speed.  I wasn't really speeding; they just made me nervous.  Eventually, the cop was right behind me.  I could see that he was talking on his radio.  Was he calling my car in?  Was he going to pull me over for something?  I just kept peeking out my door mirror at the cop.  He moved over to the next lane.  Good, he is going to turn or pass me.  Wrong.  At the next intersection, the light was turning red.  Now he was right beside me.  I could feel him staring at me, but I wasn't about to look over there.  He was making me a nervous wreck.  He stayed even with me, and we stopped at the next light.  Crap, there were no cross streets where I could turn off to get away from him.  The light changed, and I took off super slowly, which put him ahead of me.  Now he got in front of me.  Please let him turn, please let him turn.  No luck.  Now he was on the radio again.  Then he moved back over to the left lane.  At the next light, I could feel him staring again.  I was looking everywhere but at him.  He hit his siren and let it just squawk until I looked over.  Then he held up a piece of paper that said, "DO YOU DRINK COFFEE"?   I shook my head no, the light changed, and I drove.  At the next light,  he held up a paper that said, "WHAT DO YOU DRINK"?  I just rolled my eyes.  He was pretty cute, but how do you answer a question like that while you are driving?  We were almost in Mesquite.  He would have to stop following me pretty soon; he would be out of his jurisdiction.  I thought that I had it made.  And then he got behind me and turned on his red lights.  Shit!

He came walking up to my window like a typical cop.  He asked me, "Who is David?"  "What?"

 "Who is David?"  I just shook my head; I thought he was flipping out.  "Your car is registered to David.  Who is David?"  Oh, "He was the guy I bought my car from."  "I just bought it a couple of weeks ago."  "Are you sure that he is not your husband or boyfriend?"  "Well, yeah!"  "What do you drink?"  "What do you mean, what do I drink?  What kind of a crazy question is that?"  "I'm going to take my break and go get some coffee; I was going to ask you to follow me?"  "I can't."  "I have to go; I have to be somewhere."  "With David?"  "No!"  "I have to pick up my kids."  "Oh, okay."  "Well, can I call you sometime?"  " I don't know your name, and this is kind of weird."  He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to me.  It was his name, his badge number,  and his call number.  "Now, can I have your name and number?"  "Let me have the paper."  I wrote down my phone number and name for him and kept the half with his name.  "I have to go now."  "Call me whenever."

I jumped back in my car and hoped that he wouldn't stop me again before getting to the Mesquite line.  He made a u-turn and headed back to Dallas.  I sped up.  I smiled.  His name was Daniel.  Daniel, the Cute Cop.  Well, alright, now.  I wondered if he was going to call.  I couldn't help but like the unusual way that he stopped me.  It was cute.  I wondered if he knew Karl.  Maybe I would keep that to myself.  They worked different shifts, so maybe they didn't know each other.  How long was it going to take him to call?

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