I previously posted about going to California to drive my sister-in-law’s Fiat Spider 2000 back to Washington. I experienced the most bizarre behavior that the car exhibited while I drove it to Washington. The first thing I did in my spare time after I got back to Washington was to order a complete factory service manual for that piece of crap. Why bother, you may ask? Very good question. I told my sister-in-law, “You need to sell that rolling bucket of bolts as soon as possible before anybody finds out it’s haunted.” “It’s not haunted,” she replied. “Bullshit. Let me tell you what happened.” And I gave her the whole condensed blow-by-blow version of the events during my trip. I summarized by saying, “You need to sell that piece of shit before anyone finds out it’s a disaster on wheels. You sell it with no issues known to the buyer and you get 3000 dollars. You sell it with the current issues known to the buyer you get 300 dollars.” She said, “It can’t possibly be that bad.” “You’re right. It’s much worse than that because the engine knocks. To fix that, it will cost 800 to 1000 dollars. And it still has a cooling system problem. Until I find the problem, I cannot give you an estimate to fix it. That car is junk. I told you that the day you went to buy it.” “Okay. Fine. Get me the title.” “What? The title to the car?” “Now who’s the rocket scientist?” Ouch! That sort of stung a little coming from her. “Touché. I’ll be right back.” In a few minutes I walked back into the house with the California title to the Fiat. I said, “Here it is.” She replied, “Thanks. Do you have a pen?” “Let me see? Sure. Do you want me to sign it for you too?” “Just shut up and give me the pen already.” She signed the title and handed it to me, then she said, “Here. The Fiat is your problem now. You can have the car.” “What do you mean, I can have the car?” “I’m giving it to you for everything that you’ve done for me. Sort of like payment because I don’t have any money.” “You know I would never take money from you. Never.” “I know. But you’ve done more for me than anyone in my own family. I appreciate that, Wright.” “You don’t have to do this. We can sell the car and get you some money.” “No. It’s your car. Fix it.” So, after buying it I studied that factory service manual. I found what caused the car to be haunted and went to the local European motor dealer to order the part needed. I also got the name of a reputable mechanic to perform a valve adjustment because dual overhead cams are not my thing. It turned out that the valve timing was causing the cooling issue with the intercooler on the turbocharger. One sunny weekend, I took it out for a spin. I could run it up to sixty miles-per-hour in less than four seconds running through all the gears. That car had some zip. Then, I took it over into Lakewood to go down toward the Puget Sound. I went around some hairpin turns to test its maneuverability. It handled great. I guess I upset this guy in an old Toyota pickup because he blew his horn, floored it, came around me, and flipped me off. I just smiled and waved because I had passed a sign for a stop sign warning, and I knew we were coming to a T-intersection that was stop-sign protected. I started reducing speed for the stop I would be required to make. I stopped and noticed that the Toyota was nowhere to be seen. However, dead ahead of me across the protected intersection sat a police cruiser. I signaled my turn, turned, and proceeded through the intersection. The police cruiser immediately pulled out, turned on its lights and pulled me over. After a few minutes, one donut loving cop (if I’ve ever seen one) walked up to the Fiat. The other (another obvious donut lover) stood behind the car with his right hand on the butt of his revolver. The first donut lover said, “I need to see your license and registration.” I showed him both. Then I said, “So, officer what did I do?” “What did you do? I’ll tell you what you did,” he replied. After a few minutes of silence, I said, “Yes, please do tell me what I did?” “What you did was drive 45 in a 25 mile-per-hour speed zone.” “Oh really? And how did you arrive at that conclusion? I ask because I didn’t see any evidence of a radar gun being used to determine my speed.” “Oh. Well. See we clocked you. Yeah that’s it. We clocked you. And that’s how we determined your speed.” “You know what I think? I think you had one too many donuts, and all that goddamn sugar went to your brain and you’ve been sitting out here in the hot sun too long. And the sun cooked all that damn sugar and that sugar melted. Yeah. Then, that melted sugar coagulated and boiled and melted again and became syrup. Yeah. That’s it. That’s what happened. At least that’s what I think.” “Here’s your goddamn ticket son. And if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth…” “You’ll what? Run home and cry to your mommy? What about the old red Toyota pickup?” “What old red Toyota pickup?” “The one that passed me coming up to that stop sign. The one you obviously didn’t stop because you were too busy eating donuts.” “There you go with the goddamn donuts again. What’s with you and the damn donuts?” “Have you looked in a mirror lately pal? It’s painfully obvious that you love zee donuts. Tell me, which ones are your favorite? I bet it’s the ones with the sprinkles.” “Nah. I like the ones with the chocolate… Hey.” “Gotcha!” The cops finally let me go. My court date was two weeks later, so I kept it. I figured I could beat the bullshit speeding charge. I put on my dress uniform in an attempt to please the judge and I was in luck. I drew a lady judge and she seemed to like me. She said, “Lieutenant, please explain to the court why you’re here today.” I replied, “Yes ma’am. You see it’s like this. On the day in question, I was driving up to a T-intersection that was stop-sign protected. And I knew that intersection to be stop-sign protected, so I started slowing my vehicle by downshifting to prepare for that stop. As I was doing so, I was passed by an old red Toyota pickup. The two police officers seated over there were parked directly across the street from that T-intersection, so they had to have seen the red Toyota pickup pass me by. I have its license plate number if you need that.” “That won’t be necessary at this time. Please continue.” “I signaled my turn intention, stopped then proceeded through the intersection. Then those officers right there pulled me over and ticketed me for going 45 in a 25.” “Were you speeding?” “Well ma’am, it’s hard to say. At one point, going through the hairpin turns on that road, I had the car cruising right along at a rapid pace to check out its handling. And it handles like a Spanish lady doing the Tango. Let me tell you. Sweet! Better than Frank Sinatra crooning New York, New York. If you catch my drift. So, yeah, I may have been speeding at some point. But not coming up to that stop sign. And definitely not when the Toyota blew me off of the damn road. But did he get a ticket? No! Not no, but hell no! He was nowhere to be found when I got to the intersection. But here is the real icing on the donut. The police officer said they ‘clocked’ me coming up to the intersection to determine my speed. That right there sounds like bullshit to me.” “Yeah. I tend to agree with you, Lieutenant. That does sound like bullshit. So, officers, is what he said true about ‘clocking’ him and about the Toyota?” The police officer who had ticketed me stood up and said, “Uh, yes your honor. We did say we ‘clocked’ him. But we didn’t see a Toyota pickup.” “What? Would you care to explain how you ‘clocked’ him and how you did not see the Toyota? Said the judge. “Well, we sort of looked at our wrist watches and looked at him and determined speed by measuring elapsed time.” “That sounds good, but what did you use to determine elapsed time?” “It’s like I said, we used our watches.” “Now I know you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes officer.” “Excuse me, your honor. I don’t understand.” “You didn’t once mention anything about landmarks.” “Landmarks, your honor?” “That’s right. Known points that the defendant’s car had to pass by during that so-called elapsed time. No mention of landmarks coupled with a Toyota that you mysteriously did not see leads me to believe you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Case dismissed.” And that is how I testified my way clear of another exercise in futility.
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