GOLF CAR BONANZA

 The first night I got to Tucson the guy I had got a ride with bought a hotel room and I stayed the night but I left the next day to get some dope because I was starting to get sick. I was lucky that I ran into an old traveling kid named Spider that was selling dope, so that secured my connection.

  I ended up meeting a good friend here Nick named Crusty, who was also from Quebec City, Canada. So we hit off right away and we were always doing dumb shit. This was New Years Eve of what year I could not tell you, but we were drinking with this chick Carolyn, and at some point she took off and we had no clue where she had gone. The next morning we were on our way to Spiders to cop some dope and when we were a block away we ran into someone that was coming from there and told us that the paramedics and cops were at the house and that Carolyn was fuckin dead, she had a fuckin OD. Fuckin shit man! Anyway another one bites the dust. Living on the street and the way we do means that death is never far. People are always dropping.

  Me and crusty hitched up to Phoenix, kicking dope along the way somewhere and went over to Tempe and got into some fuckin ruckus. This was the best, one night we were walking down the railroad tracks to find a way to drink our half rack of Natty Ice, when we stumbled on a construction site where there was a golf cart just sitting there, begging to be taken for a spin! I didn’t think the fuckin thing would go anywhere without a key but what do you know, I sat down, pressed the gas pedal, and away it went! So I tell Crusty to “Get the fuck on, grab the beer and let’s go downtown Phoenix and get some crack.” Off we went, Whee! With no word of a lie we were driving this fuckin thing right up University Ave. driving over the curbs, onto the sidewalk, back over the curb, and driving back onto the road with car horns blasting at us and we were flipping people off while drinking our cans of Natty Ice. Fuck yeah that was fun!

  I have no fuckin clue how we made it as far as we did. The last thing I remember before the police helicopter showed up was that we pulled into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn to ask directions because we had gotten so lost. Can you just imagine some dirt bag coming into your fine establishment having just got off a golf cart at ten at night with a beer in his hand and asking for directions downtown, then getting back on the fuckin thing and sputter off? Ha! Ahhh the fuckin things you do when you’re drunk!

  Well like ten minutes later we have a police helicopter circling and balling at us from the loud speaker to “get off the golf cart!” well I look at Crusty and said on the count of three, run! So we take off running. I have no clue which way he went but I ran into this strip joint that was there and in the doorway there was a cop with his gun trained on my head yelling at me to “freeze” but I just turned and ran and I’m fuckin lucky I didn’t get shot, for realz! I went and hid underneath this tracker trailer with the ghetto bird still circling. I honestly think I could have gotten away but Crusty had my back pack and I was willing to go to jail for a couple months for my shit because everything I owned was in there, including my pictures.

  So I decided to turn myself in. They already had Crusty in the back of the cop car where he was pretending that he couldn’t speak English, which was brilliant on his part I think. The cops are asking us where we got this fuckin thing from, so I tell them the truth that we found it in Tempe by a construction site. They drove us back to Tempe with the hopes that I could remember where we had got this thing from. It was funny as fuck because one of the cops had to drive the golf cart back, so he’s trailing us in the golf cart having a fuckin ball doing it, yeah the cops had a good laugh out of it. We eventually found the spot where we had taken it from and to our total surprise they let us go, no paperwork, fuck all! Too good to be true, right? Well a couple years later this all came back to bite me in my fuckin ass. Stay tuned.