This story starts last Friday night when I went out on the town with a few friends of mine. Well, as the night wore down, the two of us remaining decided to call it a night - for conversation and safety's sake, let's code name this friend Albuquerque. So me and Al were walking to his truck, when I happened to notice that it's FILTHY dirty. Of course, I can't let this opportunity pass by, so I start ribbing Albuquerque about 'pride of ownership' and 'taking care of your stuff' and 'driving around lookin like some WT' and whatnot. And during this roast, I decide to write 'PRIDE' in the dirt on the tailgate. Because Al is cool, he thinks this is funny too.
Flash forward to Monday night. Albuquerque is driving his (still dirty) truck. A highway patrolman drives up next to him, stays there for a minute, then gets back behind him and pulls him over. Being the law-abiding citizen he is, Al is a little perturbed at this action. Very intuitively, Mr. HP tells Al his truck is awfully dirty. Al agrees, taking care to include a fair amount of sarcasm. HP says that he can't even read his license plate, and the word 'PRIDE' is written on his tailgate. Al nods. As it turns out, apparently, a lot of DRUGS have been transported around this area, by cars and trucks with obstructed license plates ... and WORDS ON THE VEHICLES!!!! (are you KIDDING ME?! How'd I get so lucky?!) Yeah. So the HP thought my friend, Albuquerque, looked like a miscreant up to some illegal-ness, which I don't blame him for, cause my friend is a scruffy dude for sure. After the HP ran Al's license and made sure he wasn't carrying his South American Drug Ring membership card, he told Al to go ahead and go ... to the car wash.
Wow. You can't say I'm not livening things up around here, I guess. Ha!
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