05-09-2011, 03:12 PM
Evan Wrote:do tell. sounds like a super happy fun lighthearted story
Gather 'round, children. Let Uncle Rex regale you with a cautionary tale filled with Cops, Subarus, and tickets.
It all started with my Second Subaru. A 1992 SVX. White, with grey leather. See, I was reading flipping through the Valley Trader (AKA, Craigslist for the Valley that you pay a buck fifty for) when I came upon the ad:
1992 Subaru SVX
120K miles
Needs fender
$400
WHO COULD RESIST? Not I. So I called. The very nice lady on the other end said "Oh yeah, I'm in Front Royal. Yes, it runs. Drives too. Tell you what, if you come get it this week you can have it for $Free, I am moving and I can't take it with me."
SHIT YES, HOSS. When I get there the car is actually in really really good shape (if a bit musty) and someone had jumpered the trans to be in FWD only mode (probably because the trans was on it's last legs but HEY FREE CAR.) She also had a 1989 Toyoya Camry. I asked how much she wanted for it, she said I could have that too. Ho. Lee. Shit. I done won the free car jackpot. Spit shine the camry, sell it for enough to cover a manual trans swap, and we're golden. The seller signed both titles, my lovely girlfriend's father facilitated transport by loading the Subaru on a trailer, and I followed behind with the Toyota. We made it to The Future Mrs. Rex's Childhood Home in Winchester without incident.
Weeks pass. I do some piddly projects on the subie. Change the oil, sparkplugs, but I'm a poor college student, and Bruce is tired of his daughters dumbass boyfriend taking up all this room in his yard. An ultimatum is delivered: Move these cars or they're going to the junkyard.
OK, FINE. I call up Partner in Crime, Dave Allen. "Hey dave, wanna drive an SVX?" We decide that instead of hauling the cars, fuck it. We'll just drive them. Sure the tags are dead, and the inspections dead, and the registration isn't in our name. What's the worst that could happen? We decide to drive down Rt 11, because there'll be "less cops".
Here's where we come to Lesson Number 1 in our story. A DMV Trip Permit is Five Fucking Dollars. You can get it online, in like 45 seconds, from the DMV website. It is easy. It is cheap. And if I'd done it this story would be a shitload more boring.
We set off. Julie in the Cavalier leading us, Dave in the SVX following close behind, and me in the Yoda made the caboose. We make it to Strasburg before we see our first cop. Great success, he has someone pulled over, so we're fine...right?
Wrong. Wrongwrongwrong. Next thing I know, blue light special, Aisle 11. Shit he's got me! SAVE YOURSE...he rockets past me. What the fu...aw shit. He pulls right in front of me to pull over Dave, the (mostly) innocent bystander. I pull over behind cop and (like an idiot) get out to try to flag the cop down, since dave doesn't know shit about any of these cars, they're all mine, after all!
Well ole Officer Scooter must think he's got himself some big-time car thieves on the hook here, and he calls for backup. No lie, six patrol cars arrive, including the West Berlin, I mean, Strasburg chief of police: "You got insurance, boy?" Yes, sir. I don't have my insurance card but I'll give you the name and number of my agent and he'll be happy to confirm what I've said. "YOU BETTER NOT BE LYIN TO ME, SON?" Sir with all due respect why would I lie about having insurance?
Which brings me to lesson B: Always have your papers. Never know when some jackbooted thug is looking to drum up charges on you to make himself look good for der fuhrer.
"These cars yours?"
Yeah, I recently got them. Moving them to my house.
"Title ain't signed. Looks to me like this is MY car, all I have to do is sign the title."
Well sir, they aren't yours. They're mine.
"Well you need to come with us to the station so we can figure out what to charge you with."
This is the part where I should have said "Sir, am I under arrest or am I free to go?" But I was young and stupid and just wanted to bring my cars home. We get free rides to the Strasburg police station, my cars get free rides to impound, and my future wife gets to wait in the parking lot. ("Did anyone check her car? Maybe it's illegal too!" No shit, the Chief of Police said that.)
So here's the tally: (Dave got some of these, but they were all "mine")
2x expired inspection
2x expired registration
2x no insurance
2x "Open Title" my class three misdemeanors.
"But wait, Uncle Rex," you say. "That's only 8!" Good eye, child. See, after I paid 300 dollars to get my free cars out of impound, I got pulled over one last time for a dead inspection on my future father in law's trailer. That made 9.
So I sell both cars, and make enough money to pay the inspection and registration tickets. But I have to go to court for the insurance and open title. The insurance ticket was a 1500 dollar fine, and suspension of my license! (Dave's too.)
I get my Goodwill suit dry cleaned, put on my nicest tie, and go into court armed with the above quoted section of law and a copy of my insurance policy.
Dave gets to go first. (Allen comes before Elsea.) It went like this:
Judge: "Son, do you have insurance?"
Dave: "Yes, your honor. Here is the proof."
Judge: "Did you have insurance on the day in question?"
Dave: "Yes, your honor. I was never asked if I had insurance, only ticketed." (Which was true!)
Judge: "Officer scooter, did you ask this young man if he had insurance?"
OS: "Well uh, you see, I, uh, baduhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
Judge: "Dismissed! Sorry to take up your time, son."
Now I'm up.
Judge: "No insurance, again. Same situation, I reckon?"
Me: "Yes, your honor. Officer Scooter never asked me if I had insurance. The chief of police did and I told him that I DID have insurance."
Judge: "I see. And this open title."
Me: "Well your honor looking at the code section it appears that it's the seller's responsibility to make sure the title is filled out, not mine! How can I be the "owner" of a car when the title hasn't even been signed."
Prosecuting Attorney: "Well, the purpose of the law is clear in this case. You were the one in possession of an open title."
Me: "Well that might be true but I wasn't trying to defraud anyone. See, I registered the cars and paid the appropriate taxes, and I have copies of that registration."
Judge: "And you have these cars now?"
Me: "No your honor, I had to sell them to pay for my other tickets I got this day."
Judge: "I think you learned your lesson. Not guilty. And YOU, officer scooter. This court is tired of you wasting the courts time on things like this."
The prosecuting attorney met me outside the courtroom to congratulate me on my fantastic job. 'You made that officer look like a jackass.' I, of course, was about to puke coming down off adrenalin and barely squeaked out a 'thank you, sir.'
Which brings us to lesson number three: ALWAYS DRESS NICE IN COURT AND BE POLITE TO JUDGES.
I hope all you new little punks who think you know everything (Like I did when I was your age) have learned a thing or two from your elder's awful experience.
1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass 442