Is This Your Truck?

Location: Yuma, Arizona
Year: Roughly 1974

Ever been confronted by law enforcement in a situation where there were no good answers? I have. Here's what happened:

When I was in High School from '71-'75 (Go Crims!), there wasn't a lot for kids to do. At the tender age of 16, we were old enough to drive, but not drink. We managed to do both and somehow not end up a statstic. We lived in a small town in the middle of a rather large desert. So we made our own fun. One of those more popular activities was to have a keg party on the bank of the Colorado River somewhere East of town. We'd pull our vehicles into a circle around the riverbank and build a very large bonfire there and drink until we either threw up or passed out. Or both. Some people even smoked a doobie or three. I've been known to do that myself back then, but on this night, for whatever reason, I was sticking to the beer. Lucky me.

This particular night we were having a kegger out on the river. It was a warm evening, as usually happens in Yuma during the summer. I had driven my Dad's 1970 Chevy truck because it had tires on it that made travel through the sand in that area a little easier. At the time I beleive I drove a 1958 Ford Fairlane. Not your usual desert/sand capable vehicle. Another cool feature of Dad's truck is that it had a very cool 8-track player! YES! Tunes a-go-go...

It was dark. It was late. The party was winding down. By then most folks had either left, passed out or were getting lucky in a bush somewhere. Me? I was kicked back by the remnants of the bonfire, back against a rock, with a beer in my hand listening to God-Knows-What on somebodies stereo. I was nicely buzzed, but not DRUNK. Just happy and contented.

I looked up as something caught my eye and saw a ring of red and blue lights surrounding the beach party area. I remember asking myself "How did those guys get that close and nobody saw or heard them?" As an old hand at this stuff (The cops were CONSTANTLY busting up our river/house/desert parties. They seemed to enjoy it), I just sat where I was, making no attempt to run or hide or act 21 or over. All around me the cops swept into the area and started making kids pour our their beer or snuff out their cigarettes. Kids were bitching, cops were ordering and nobody was paying attention to the music! Somebody has to turn the 8-track over to the other side, man!

After going on for some time, I hear a rather officious voice yell out, "WHO'S TRUCK IS THIS?" Uh oh. I look over and of course this plain-clothes cop is standing in front of Dad's truck, with his hands on his prominent gunbelt and gun. Oh, goody. I plopped the beer down in the sand, stood up and took credit for the truck. He gives me the 'Come Hither' finger and I walk over to the fron of the vehicle where he's standing.

(This is the good part - pay attention) He was a tall man, me being a short kid. He looks down his nose at me and says, "Is this your truck?"

I said, "No, it's my DAD'S truck." (Yes, I was even more of a smart-ass then)

Then he said, trying to instill the Fear Of God in me, "I'm Officer Hudson of the Yuma City-County Narcotics Task Force!" (One beat... two beats)

I said, "Okay." (even MORE beats...)

He said "What's that on the hood?" I turn around to look on the hood and I see not one, but TWO pot seeds and a fragment of a leaf there. I look at him and said something along the lines of "You mean that stuff? Looks like somebody rolled a joint on my hood and tossed out the trash. Large Deal." Well, needless to say, since I was evidently not urinating in my shoes and crying for mercy, Officer Hudson of the Yuma City-County Narcotics Task Force was going to show me who's boss. "We're going to search your vehicle for Marijuana!"

I said, "Okay. Knock yourself out. There isn't any in there and if there IS any in there, it aint mine. Just like your motherlode on the hood. So have fun." Or something to that effect.

So Officer Hudson of the Yuma City-County Narcotics Task Force commences to tear the inside of Dad's truck apart. The contents of the glove compartment? On the floor. Dad's spiffy new 8-track player with slide-out mount? On the floor. The tools and stuff behind the seat? On the floor. Anything else wasn't bolted to the frame of the truck? On the floor. What, you might ask, WASN'T on the floor? Any pot. He came up empty. Bupkis. Nada. Clean. Evidenceless...

So, now that my extreme innocence was now a fact, rather than the protestation of a rather pimply teenager, he further frightens me by saying, "Okay, you're not going to be arrested for possession. But, If I see you on the road tonight, I'll arrest you for drunk driving."

I had brought a sleeping bag and a foam mattress to sleep on anyway, so no big deal. I agreed he would not see me again that night. They left, we finished the beer and crashed. Woke up the next morning and went home.

End Of Story... But, is it? Oh, NO, my eager readers, not at all!

Fast forward, oh, roughly 20 years. My father-in-law and I were doing something and I related this story to him. He said he remembered Officer Hudson of the Yuma City-County Narcotics Task Force from his days in Arizona law enforcement. You know what my Father-In-Law told me that to this day brings a huge smile to my face?

Officer Hudson of the Yuma City-County Narcotics Task Force was busted for drug dealing and is spending MUCH hard time in Florence. And that, my friends, is the REST of the story...