Destroying City Property Can Be Fun 

So there I was...

...I had just called into service and was leaving the substation, anxious to catch
drunk drivers. Just then, the dispatcher sent a sector car to a suicidal man with a
knife, girlfriend and kids in the house. One of the kids was on the phone screaming
for help, saying his dad was "freaking out" and becoming violent. 

The sector car went code 3 (lights and sirens), but there were no units available
for cover. Like I've said many times before, I may be a full-time DUI specialist but
my badge still says "Police Officer." This is one of those times when they need a
cop, special assignment notwithstanding. So, I rolled code 3, too.

I was about 3/4 of the way there when some idiot pulled out in front of me. I was
going *fast,* and the only way to avoid a collision was to hit the curb. What a
moron. Seriously, when a police car is driving 100+ miles per hour with red and blue
lights flashing and sirens blaring, it means GET OUT OF THE WAY, especially
considering how rarely our policy lets us do it -- it's always very serious, so you
know it's not a dog barking complaint when we do it. 


When I evaded him the car went into a yaw, and both right side tires hit the curb.
The rear tire struck first, and hardest. But, I didn't collide with the idiot. Not
having any time to stop him and write a ticket bothered me, but I obviously had
something more important to do. So I kept running fast, and within seconds the rear
end started to vibrate. I've felt that before -- I had a flat tire on the rear.
Crap.

In most circumstances I'd stop, pull over, and change the tire so we could have the
flat one patched. In this case, there just wasn't any time, so I kept running fast
on the flat, knowing the taxpayers would have to replace the tire rather than just
fix it. 

The vibrating degraded into severe wobbling, and I was forced to slow down somewhat
to maintain contr”\ÃwpѶ ol of the car. Just then, the first officer arrived on
scene and began screaming into the radio for help. It was one of those bone-chilling
moments where you pray and curse at the same time; every time that happens I think
about the moment Ken was murdered, and I never want to go through that again.

My foot went back to the floor, and I was practically skidding to my destination. I
could hear the tire falling apart and smacking the quarter panel, but I kept running
hard. For the life of me, I truly believe there was a team of angels holding onto my
cruiser, keeping it on course. Other than that, I don't think it would have been
possible to keep control.

I finally skidded into the apartment complex parking lot where I was heading, and a
shower of sparks followed me. I didn't take the time to look at the car, I just ran
as fast as I could inside and to the apartment where the officer was screaming for
help.

Just as I flew through the door, he was taking the suspect to the ground and
handcuffing him. He had successfully disarmed the knife-wielding suicidal maniac
without hurting him (for my own safety I would have shot the guy had I been the one
confronting him because he apparently came at the officer with the knife...kudos to
the officer). We got the handcuffs on, and the rest is just mundane stuff and
fighting with paramedics (the suspect was taken to the hospital to be seen by a
mental health professional).

When it was all said and done, I went out and looked at my car. It was *hilarious.*
The rim was still attached, and shreds of tire still vainly clung to it. The tread
and outer shell had fallen off just as I rounded the corner, and landed in the
parking lot looking a lot like a big, black, rubber donut. I assume that was the
reason for the spark shower when I rounded the corner. 

Well, all the officers are ok, and the suicidal guy didn't kill himself on our
watch. It only cost you taxpayers the cost of a new tire and a tow truck run!

Doom on you, taxpayers!