From: pez@manhattan.com (Gizmo) Subject: The Adventures Of Smacks Past (Part 2) - Never Say Gone Date: 1996/09/20 newsgroups: alt.drugs.hard So there we were, me and my exwife that is, just finished coping. Six bags of smack and four bags of coke. We were both pretty down and out at the time. The year was 1981/82 or thereabouts. I resorted to using my Chevy Impala as a "gypsy cab," in Manhattan & The Bronx. Totally illegal. Didn't have any livery plates, proper insurance etc. But hey, it was a way to pick up $60 to $100 bucks a day without "hurting anyone." I also had this habit of pulling into a gas station, filling my tank up with gas, and then just driving off without paying. I was doing this quite a bit the last year, and I guess my car was "getting a reputation." Some eyes were on the alert. So there we were. Just finished coping. Car about out of gas. I figured, hey let's go fill it up before we go home. Well, I pull into this gas station in Throgs Neck, and do my thing. (I always took my license plate off the rear of the car before I did this.) Well, I finish pumping the gas, and I start to drive off. All of sudden, the gas station owner scopes the move, and as luck would have it, another customer offers to give him his car, so the owner can chase me down! I'm watching all this take place in the rear view mirror as I peel out of the station. Shit... So on we go. I know the neighborhood really well. And I figure I can loose him, if I'm lucky. So I take him for trip through side streets, main streets, past red lights, stop signs, past the speed limit. But he stays on my ass. Finally I get on the New England Thruway heading north. I'm heading into Westchester County, into Pelham, New Rochelle etc. Still I can't loose him. I even think, "hey I got a full tank of gas, If I can just keep this up without getting caught, maybe he will run out of gas and have to let us go! He's flashing his lights, honking his horn. Jeeezzz. And here we are carrying stuff! My wife is hysterical by now. After getting off in Pelham Manor, trying to loose him through a few more side streets, I start to realize I ain't gonna shake him so easily. Well, I'm heading south now, toward the Bronx again. And as luck will have it, I get caught in a traffic jam, from people who are heading home from Orchid Beach/City Island. Still he's on my ass. Finally, he sees a patrol car and get's the cops attention. FUCKED, RIGHT? Bumper to bumper traffic. Nowhere to go. I pull the car over on the service road. The cop gets out of the car, and asks me and my wife for ID. As all this is taking place, the gas station owner comes over and tells the cop about our little adventure. The cops have to hold the guy back, because, as you might guess, he wants to re-arrange my features a bit. Well, me and my wife are shitting bricks now. Getting busted for stealing $20 worth of gas is one thing, but getting popped for stuff? Well, you know. As Cheech and Chong would say, Bummer Man. Well, the stuff is in my wife's handbag. The cops frisk us, and do a quick spot search, but they don't really go into her handbag in a big way. Now we are in the back of the police car, handcuffed, and there is no way that we are going to be let go. We are read our rights and are taken to the local precinct. My car is left on the side of the road. We are kind of lucky to have pretty okay police officers, who found it amusing that we took this guy on a chase for over 40 minutes through the Bronx, Westchester and back to the Bronx again just for $20 worth of stolen gas! Meanwhile, while trying to maintain a decent conversation with the cops, I ask my wife, "where is the stuff?" She tells me, it's in her handbag. So with handcuffs on my wrists, I reach behind my back, get my fingers into her bag, and gently pull all the bags of stuff out and shove them down the back seat of the police car. And I pray they don't look there when we get to the precinct. I'm really pissed that I'm gonna loose this stuff, but hey, it's better than being charged with it, right? Well, we arrive at the station house, and after a background warrent check, paperwork, and about two hours in a holding pen, they charge us with Petit Larceny, a misdemeanor. We are told that they are going to give us a DAT. (Desk Appearance Ticket) and let us go. I'm relieved, but now my brain is working overtime. How can I get the stuff back? Then it hits me. I ask the officers if they could please drive us back to my car, as we had no money, etc. They agree! And on the ride back up to my car, while engaging in casual banter with the cops, unencumbered by handcuffs, I carefully reach behind me, and dig into the back seat to try to extract the lost bags of stuff. Luck. I'm able to find 9 of the 10 bags. Five bags of dope & the four cokes. My heart is pounding a mile a minute. My wife can't believe it. Wow. I can't tell you, unless you've been there, how good that stuff felt when we booted it up later that night. Thankfully, it was a good batch of stuff to boot. To this day, I always wonder what happened to the one bag of dope that I couldn't get out of that back seat? ########################################## Afterword I saw a few posts up here, asking if my "memories of smacks past," weren't also full of "bad & ugly times as well." You bet they were. And I'm lucky to be able to tell you about them. But hey, where can you buy this kind of entertainment value? Yea, the price was/is high, but it's better than a dull life, lived vicariously through TV & the Movies. Yea, sometimes I say, if I had my whole life to do over again, the one thing I would change would be the addiction. It sounds good, but some of you may have noticed that you can't "go back and change anything." Some of you may have noticed, that you can't change much even now! Isn't life grand? Gizmo