I was finishing a shift for Western Union. It was one of those really cold nights, a rare night when Dad had allowed me to use the car. I had made my last delivery on North Nevada Avenue and the supervisor had told me he would clock me out so I could go on home as I lived in the northeast side of town.
Evenly matched. In a way.
I drove east on Cache la Poudre and stopped at the light at Hancock. A 50 Ford pulled up beside me. Ford vs. Ford. His car was black, mine green, but otherwise seemed identical. The light. The surge. By both vehicles. We ran bumper to bumper in the darkness. After a block, he dropped back. I slowed. He turned on the flashing red light.
I got a stern lecture and I probably did not mutter something about "entrapment." There was no ticket issued.
I have ever after wondered if the guy was an officer, or was he just a guy with a red light who got his jollies by scaring the bejabbers out of kids?
Word of the day: bejabbers