For the average law-abiding citizen the most likely encounter you’ve had with police involves a car. Today, January 15th, is the 150th anniversary of the founding of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, the famed department that has been the star of so many Japanese TV shows and movies. In the US, most of the JNC staff is old enough to remember when having a modified Japanese car was akin to having “Pull Me Over” painted on the back. But as times have changed and in our experience these days officers are just as likely to be fellow enthusiasts of Nihon steel themselves. Perhaps one day we’ll tell the story of when six Tennessee State Troopers took intense interest in the 3,700-mile Infiniti Q45 we had borrowed from Nissan USA.
What’s your best/worst police encounter story?
The most entertaining comment by next Monday will receive a prize. Scroll down to see the winner of last week’s QotW, “What’s your automotive resolution for 2024?”.
Resolutions for 2024 are all about getting back on the road. Land Ark plans to sell a JDM Celsior due to irreconcilable HVAC issue so that the Miata RF purchased in the meantime can be driven more. Lakdasa wants to get his dream 4×4, a task that has been made difficult by an unstable government. Fred Langille wants to get his Nissan S-Cargo to pass a surprisingly strict state inspection. Negishi no Keibajo wants to mod a new Prius and put in work on a Suzuki Samurai tin top.
The winner this week is Brando, who gives us some insight into certifying a JDM car in Australia.
Get all of the modifications on my 1994 Toyota Mark II certified. Here in Australia, all modifications need to certified by an engineer before they’re legal. A lot of people put off doing that, myself included. That was the plan so I could put it on classic registration this year (for cars +30 years old, only have 60 days to drive it every year but the registration costs become almost non-existent), but now I have to as the car was inspected and grounded by our local highway patrol a couple of days ago. Hard to get away with when the car has a great big high-mount turbo!
Omedetou, your comment has earned you a set of decals from the JNC Shop!
Compared to the difficulty in getting the S-Cargo through WV inspection, registration was a piece of cake! Prior to getting the van here, I had seen Doug DeMauro’s U-Tube videos over and over in order to get the best overall impression of the van. Several of his videos stressed the difficulty in getting HIS S-Cargo through The People’s Republic of Virginia, home of the We-Don’t-Like-Radar-Detectors LEA, It looked like he had to jump through flaming hoops to get ‘er done and, I had lotsa misgivings about my own sturm und drang.
The biggest fear I had was in the very different way Japanese VINs are from those in the USA as they are shorter. The local WV State Police station, which was only down the road a bit (lucky me!), had the forms I needed so, I brought home a sheaf of them, preparing to make copious errors and have some trooper gleefully explain WHY HE WON’T allow my (to him/her anyway) weird little import on his/hers precious highways and byways of the Mountain State.
I filled out the paperwork, putting “00000000’s” to fill up the blank spaces, in front of the VIN in one form and, after the VIN on another … making sure there were no misteaks in grammar, spelling and ensuring my crayons uh, I mean INK PEN, had both the approporiate color ink and type.
I pulled up to the station, brought the paperwork inside and, asked for a trooper to sign off on it. With a ” … this car I gotta see!” remark, the trooper went out to inspect the van … not an official one for a sticker but, an inspection just the same.
His reaction?
Bwwwwaaaahhhhahahahahahaha!!!
He laughed so hard, I thought he’s have a stroke!
Looking at the forms, he said “Use the one with the ‘00000000’s’ at the end.” Chopped off on it, sending me scurrying out to DMV in order to get a WV plate (I had been running on a Quebec plate … which I still have, brand new too … it’s in what’s left of my license plate collection). Pushing all of my paperwork to a clerk at DMV, I filled out a request for a personal plate … I needed 3 choices so, I SYNARA2U, SYNARA and something else, I forget. The plate came back as SYNARA, in tribute to my late beloved Honda Z600 Sports Coupe, which has been on it ever since (at $60+ renewal every year).
So, outside of this latest sack of problems dealing with (much needed and mostly unknown) mechanical problems as mentioned in my prior posting as per New Year Resolutions), I have never had many problems with any police either while driving around here in WV or, in driving him home from Quebec. I’ve all the parts, save for 3 new tires ,,, doesn’t make sense to just replace ONE … and, as soon as The Eagle Screams out my IRS return, The rebuild begins … sunroof, A/C, radio install, front end alignment, tie rod ends, ball joints, rear brake hubs, shoes, fix stuck hatch lock, fix dents in cargo area and, finally have the lip holding the hatch rubber gasket, rust repaired … and, He gets a rest until done. For now, its Cars & Coffee with the Mercedes-Benz (they have a big JDM crowd here that loves our ’23 CLA 250 4Matic AMG!
I wrote Doug to inform him that, comparing states DMV, WV took the high road in allowances. From that point on, it was lollypos, puppydogs and rainbows! Now to finish the job!
I am in USA, all my cars are RHD, both JDM Toyotas and a Bentley and a Cobra built in UK. I was in southern California with the Cobra. My son was sitting in the left seat (passenger side in a RHD). We were driving through the streets of Burbank, California when all of the sudden the police car behind me lit his red lights up and pulled us over. The officer gets out of the patrol car, stormed over to the left side of the car to lecture my son – it seems I had made several turns and lane changes but my son, who was the passenger, never turned his head and the cop thought my son was driving dangerously. He started to angrily lecture my son on the need to maintain proper lookout when he looked over to the right side of the car where I grasped the steering wheel. He was both flabergasted and embarrassed and simple barked ” Go on, get out of here!”
I’ve always loved my Datsuns. But for one reason or another, they were never fast enough. My buddies in High School all had Novas, Skylarks, LeMans’ – they were faster than my 77 280Z. The Z was an EFI AT car – so not great, we put twin SU’s on it and it was better, but the AT gearbox was just a dog…so one night the tape measure came out. My buddy with the Skylark had a Buick 455 in it and said “i bet it will fit” – 9 days later we drove it out of his garage with a 70 Buick 455 and TH400 under the hood. Yes it did!
Before the internet and cell phones, Street racing was just something that happened on Sunday night in my city. Not like you see on TV today, its mostly unorganized, sometimes you set up races and go to a place or, like this particular night, its just a guy that pulls up beside you at the lights – or 2 guys. My friend that I built the Z car with lost his drivers license for a couple months, but he really wanted to drive the car. Ok i get that, so I follow him in my Land Cruiser to run blocker – we agree on a route, its not a long drive. It was about 11pm Sunday Night.
He’s been driving good, lots of cars out this night, air temp was warm – just a perfect summer night for a cruise in your hot rod. He stops at a red light – we are right downtown – further than we were supposed to go – but it was such a nice night, you lose track – and a Black Fox Mustang pulls up to the right side – he’s got big tires, and then a Green 440 71 Challenger pulls up on the drivers side…i am cringing, i can hear the cam in that Mopar and the Fox does a dry hop and stages – i know he can’t say ‘No’ to that kind of 3-way. Light goes green, 3 noses pop up, engines roaring is all you hear, a Symphony of Detroit’s finest deafens all within range, i see the long white Z car nose pull out front and then i see a cop car going the opposite way – and then in my mirrors i see him hit the lights and bounce over the center median trying to U-turn in pursuit – shit! I was moving slowly and changing lanes slowly trying to give them time to bug out – the Datsun won handily, the Dodge peeled off left – then i see all the brake lights light up waaaay down in front of me. “What happened?!?!” as i get closer I can see the Datsun on the side, parked, and i see my friend leaning against the car, i see a cop by himself, no cop car to be seen – what happened here? I hang back and wait for him and see what happens, he’s going to need a ride or if i have to tow the Datsun back home or what. He gets in the car and drives away – i follow him back home.
he gets out and looks at me “Did you see?”
Me: “No, what happened?”
Him: “you’re not going to believe this, but that was a beat cop on foot, just walking on the sidewalk and he literally ran out into oncoming traffic and jumped in front me!” he continued “the Mustang saw him and turned off, I had nowhere to go”.
The cops that did the U-turn (and couldn’t pursue for some reason…) had apparently radioed up ahead and the Beat Cop took that call and risked his and public safety to give a kid a couple traffic tickets.
My buddy held up those handful of tickets and showed them to me: Imprudent driving, failure to produce registration (left it on the workbench) and my personal favorite, Race with another Motor Vehicle. The first and the last carry a $1000 fine and loss of license.
“How on earth did he let you drive away without a license??” i asked him as i looked at the tickets and then – holy shit moment – i noticed these tickets were in my name!!!
“I’m really sorry” he said “if i gave him my name i would never get my license back, maybe even jail time – and your wallet was in the car on the seat beside me”
“Great” i thought. this is a big mess now…
But sorting that out will have to be a tale for another time…
Pulled over by my local sheriff who had never seen a RL411 and was curious., Had a nice chat and showed him my engine compartment. Some cops are human after all!
I was driving my rather beat up 82 Supra L-Type on the way home from a dinner out with friends and as I was passing through a local town known for pullovers, my visor mounted radar detector started beeping. I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw a police cruiser tailing me. A check of my speed showed I was just below the speed limit, and I made sure not to exceed any posted limits while traveling through the town. During my three-mile drive through the town, the detector went on and off as they kept checking my speed. Just as I approached the town’s border the cruiser’s lights went on and they pulled me over. For context when I had this car they were often driven by teenage kids as they were affordable buys and the condition of mine made it look like a high schooler’s car, I however was in my forties. When the police officer came to my door and saw my age their expression soured. So much for the easy ticket. They went through the usual “do you know why I pulled you over?” spiel and noted they had radared me and saw my detector blinking. I noted very kindly that at no time did I exceed any posted speed limit, which they acknowledged was true. Since there was no other reason for the pullover, they let me go. I traveled through the town often and made sure to wave at them whenever I saw them lurking for unsuspecting offenders.
i had a 280Z that i put a 455 Buick into. My buddy helped me and he wanted to drive it….but his license was suspended. He went for a drive, it was Sunday night and really nice out. I ran blocker with my Land Cruiser just in case.
at a red light, a 5.0l mustang and a 440 Challenger pulled up beside him and i knew he could not resist….Light goes green, all you hear is a Detroit Symphony and 3 noses pop up, the white Datsun pulls out front. i see the Mopar bug out left and traffic stops way up where i can’t see – just panic stopping, brakes lights everywhere. i get there and a beat-cop on foot ran out into the street to stop them, 5.0l was gone, Datsun gets a bunch of tickets. he drives away and i don’t know how he’s not in the cop car…
“I’m really sorry” he said…and hands me the tickets. “you’re wallet was on the seat and I’ll never get my license back if i take the hit” Yup, i got all the tickets – but that’s a story for another time
It was July 1970, around 7:00AM and I was heading East out of Spokane, Washington in my new Datsun 240Z. A several hours later I had crossed Idaho, climbed up and over the Rocky Mountains and down into the Big Sky country of Montana.
Montana was huge! and very sparsely populated, you were lucky to see one or two other cars on US I-94 over the span of an hour. With the wide open Freeway ahead, I was cruising along between 85mph and 95mph and only checking my rear view mirror as an occasional car passed in the opposite direction. (to make sure it didn’t make a U-Turn to come after me).
An hour or so into the drive across Montana, a flash of light in the rear view mirror caught my eye. Looking up I saw the sun light reflecting off the Montana State Highway Patrol car now behind me. DAM!! Where did he come from? I maintained my speed (a little over 90mph) and waited for the Red Lights to come on.
Watching my rear view mirrors – I saw him pull his Plymouth Cruiser out into the Left Lane, then blow by me at well over 125mph. No Siren, no Red/Blue Lights just a wave as he went by. At the next stop for Gas, I told the Station Attendant (they used to pump your gas etc) about the incident, and being amazed he didn’t ticket me. “For What?” the attendant ask. “Speeding” I replied. “There is no Day Time Speed Limit in Montana” the attendant informed me!!
The station attendant went on to explain that Montana had a very small State Police Dept., and they had to cover hundreds of miles every day on the Feeways. So they used special Big Block Hemi’s that routinely ran at 125mph and above. They were there to look for accidents or stranded vehicles and if you were operating safely at higher speeds they had no need to bother you. Thus my Best Interaction with Law Enforcement – a friendly way as they passed by!
Of course that changed with the 1973 National Highway Speed Limit – at 55mph. But that’s another Story.
Doing Minuteman site activation in the 1980s. I was riding in another car [and sleeping] when we were [passed by a Montana Highway Patrol car. The trooper rolled down his window and said, “I would like to inform you that you are driving 105 MPH on snow tires” and pulled away from us.
Back in my early 20’s around the year 1998 or so I was driving my 1986 MR2 (that I still have) with my roommate in tow on I-10 heading from Tallahassee to the Jacksonville Jaguars game. We were driving enthusiastically and came upon a kid in a loud (paint scheme and exhaust) Chevy/Isuzu Luv truck on the fast lane going only 5mph over the limit. So I tailgated him for a bit. He moved over and then got behind and tailgated me for a while. He was hanging on my tail and I decided to get him back and tailgate him back and all of a sudden, a trooper from the median fires up his lights and follows and pulls me over. The Chevy Luv wasn’t pulled over and takes off. I stop the car in the median and present the officer with my license and registration.
The female officer wasn’t buying my story that this kid was tailgating me and I had to speed up to avoid getting rear-ended. She gets my credentials and proceeds to write my speeding ticket when all of a sudden, a mini-van decked out in Jacksonville Jaguars decals and flags pulls over to the median in front of my car and a soccer mom looking lady gets out of her crowded van and tells the trooper that if I was being pulled over for speeding, it wasn’t my fault because she stated that the kid in the Chevy Luv was on my butt and was being relentless about it and I had no choice but to speed up.
I didn’t know who that lady was but she was a guardian angel. The officer let me go without a citation. I had a bad ticket from a year prior speeding in my Eclipse GST and could not afford another. Lesson learned after that and I never got pulled over for speeding again. Whew!
I just finished installing my custom exhaust on my 1JZ swapped Corona. It was 3-inch tubing from the turbos to the end of my car: no cat, no resonator, no muffler. I planned on buying a muffler but I was so happy to drive my project for the first time.
The maiden voyage was to work on a weekday. After work, I prepared for my short but loud trip home.
Side note: I was living in Charlotte NC (NASCAR Mecca) at that time and my car was just as quiet as a Cup Series car. I easily drowned out muscle cars. Think F-15 taking off with full afterburners loud.
Again, I started my 7-minute trip home. The whole time I could tell on the faces of the drivers around me my car was annoyingly loud. I pull up to a light and I’m in the left turning lane eight cars back and I notice a police car about 4 cars behind me. So I tried ever so slightly to feather the gas without ripping a hole in spacetime with the decibels this exhaust was putting out. I swear for God the car got louder as I’m sweating and looking at the cop in my rearview mirror. Oh yeah, the car had a past-due registration! The light turns green and I know I’m home free…but one of the cars ahead of me was obviously on their cell phone. Cars honk at them and they pull off, I guess realizing they were driving that day TF. Okay, I still had time to make the light, except it turned yellow… and the car in front of me decided to stop! We could have made it! I immediately look in my rearview as the police car pulls into the lane to the right of me as that cars start to go.
So he was behind me turning left and then decided to go straight, nah he was definitely giving me a ticket.
As he gets closer to me he slows down but doesn’t have his lights on. He slowly creeps parallel to me as if he is about to do a 90s-style drive-by on me. I’m squeezing the steering wheel so hard I could have juiced it. I kept my eyes looking forward hoping he wouldn’t notice me, like an ostrich with its head in a hole, but I guess I didn’t disappear. He comes to a dead stop in the middle of traffic. I feel him staring at me. At this point, I’m thinking “Can police officers shoot me for having too loud an exhaust in North Carolina?”, or “I’m for sure doing time for this loud exhaust!” Yes, those are silly thoughts, but I was so nervous that actually went through my head.
I finally look over at him, sweat pouring down my face. He removes his sunglasses (classic “son do you know how fast you were going” police move) and has a smile from ear to ear much like the OG Grinch, and says to me:
“You have a JZ in there don’t you?”
I was 28 at the time but I responded with all the high-pitch puberty of a 7th grader:
“yEeS sSIr iT iS”
He said “Man that’s nasty! I used to have a RB swapped 510. Keep up the good work!” and drove off.
I came back to life, drove home, and immediately ordered the largest muffler I could afford.
In the mid-2000s, I got pulled over by a state trooper who was in my local Honda club, he himself owned an EM1 Si. He told me I didn’t do anything wrong but there was were about a half dozen cops 2 miles up the road looking for modified Hondas and they were handing out equipment violations to stem the street racers who were very prevalent back then. I took sideroads home that day and I didn’t have to get hassled over my HIDs and exhaust. That cop was the MVP.
About 1981, one afternoon I was in my ITA Mazda RX-3 (headers, roll cage, lowered, etc.), driving spiritedly on Interstate 5 with some guy driving a similarly modified V-6 Capri. We dropped off the freeway somewhere near San Juan Capistrano to go to the local Carl’s Jr., a known car guy hangout. While driving along the frontage road (still spiritedly), a cop comes into view up ahead, having pulled someone over. Of course we let up on the throttles. What does a carbureted rotary do, especially with headers, when you back off the throttle after driving it hard? Yup. Big backfire, just as I passed the cop as he was leaning into the driver’s window of the pulled over car. Went off like a cannon shot, it did.
Sure enough, here comes Smokey, at speed, in my wide-angle rear view mirror, full lights and sirens. He pulls me over, gets me spread-eagled on the ground at the point of a gun, and accuses me of taking a potshot at him. I tried to explain to him the nature of rotary engines and the occasional backfire, but he was having none of it. After a thorough search of me and the car (and no weapons found), I ended up with a fix-it ticket for an aftermarket exhaust. The cops at the substation, where I had to get the car inspected and the ticket signed off (after reinstalling the stock exhaust set-up and the air pump), got a good laugh out of the story, they being more fully versed in rotary engine idiosyncrasies.
There was some guy out there, pulled over on a frontage road along I-5 in San Juan Capistrano, back in 1981, who must have thanked his lucky stars that some hotshot came blasting by in a rotary, saving him from a ticket.
This happened in about 1989-90 I was in my early 20s and in True Northern California Hwy-101 Elkington south to Trinidad. Hwy -101 was mostly two lane in those days with a few passing lanes. I was driving my 1972 Datsun 240Z after my first major modifications (Tokeco springs, Koni’s Enkei-92, Yokohamas, Triple Webers, Hooker super comp header to a Supper Trapp) to the car and I was on vacation.
The car is running great in the cool coastal air and I am running along at what ever the roads would allow. I always slow in communities and as I was leaving Elkington there was a CA Highway Patrol sitting and watching the traffic. I was the sixth car in a line of cars as we went by the officer and then we approached a up hill passing lane. There was a Game Warden truck directly in front of me and he pulled into the passing lane and passed all of the car and then pulled into the right lane and I went around him and thought nothing more as I hammered on.
I had the radio on a local station as I drove through towns and I had heard that there was some shot gun killer on the loose in the area shooting people and leaving them dead along side the road and I had a 12 Gauge double barrel shot gun riding in my passenger seat. Then I approached Trinidad and the road opened up to a four lane hwy and just as I saw my way around the traffic ahead of me I glanced in my mirror as I saw a Highway Patrol pass a car and jump in about three cars behind me. I look at the speedometer and I am doing the 55 mph the speed limit at the time. So I decide to stay right where I am in the traffic and keep the RPMs low to keep the car quiet as possible. But that did not stop the officer from pulling in behind me and hitting the red lights.
I waved to him to let him know I am aware he is there turned my right blinker on but there was a large curb and no where to pull off the road so I kept driving. He then got on his loud speaker and told me to pull over. I did not want to ruin my tires and wheels so I went to the first spot I could pull over and did so thinking I am going to jail for being the shot gun killer.
The officer came up to my right side window and I said the shot gun is broke and un-loaded. The officer never said a word about it. Then he said do you know how I caught you? I said you did not catch me I have been doing 55 MPH since I saw you. The officer responded that is correct but I am the officer that was in Elkington about 30 miles back! I thought oh boy this is not going to be good.
He said we are in a small area and we work together with our Game Wardens to keep a watch on things and about this time the Game Warden drives by and waves to the officer and pulls over down the beach a bit. The officer told me that when I passed the Game Warden the Warden radioed him and bet the CHP officer that he could not catch me. So the bet was on.
The officer told me he came up behind a blue Z and then radioed the Warden that he had already caught the speeding Z and the Warden responded with ” I doubt it. What color Z did you catch”? The officer responded a blue one. The Warden said you better keep going your after a orange Z. About the blue Z drives buy and the officer points it out to me. The officer takes my drivers license and goes back to his car. He was there quite a while. Then the officer returns to the right side of my car. He trough my drivers license on the passenger seat and said that he had won the bet and to not ever drive like that in his area again. I responded with if I had known it was a bet you would have never seen me again. He looked at me sternly and said I think you are right. I then said I know I am. Then the officer returned to his car and pulled down the road were the warden was located so they could swap stories.
Ben I just sent a long story that did not print.
In the 80’s, I was constantly moving from city to city for my career. My retired parents were always on for a road trip so they always offered to drive my 240-Z to a new domicile. My dad’s no leadfoot & just going with the flow with the rest of the traffic. The Washington State plates must have piqued the interest of a Texas trooper so on come the lights. After a lengthy “running of the plates”, he finally ambled up to the window. When the window rolled down, apparently he just looked dumbfounded at an elderly couple in their ‘70s, wordlessly gave the a facial expression of “ never mind, just never mind” & walked off.
My senior year of high school I missed a lot of half days. What can I say? I had senior apathy and I didn’t like getting up in the morning. The administration apparently thought I was picking up inventory to sell at school. One morning as I was arriving late, the principal greeted me in the school yard and escorted me to his office where he had a sheriff’s deputy join us. After searching me/my backpack & wallet (which I agreed to), they asked to search my car. Well, my ’86 Celica was getting a new clutch, so I had my dad’s Wrangler. They gave it (and the Bible in the center console) a thorough search and we returned to the principal’s office where the deputy gave me the “scare him straight” talk and warned me that if I continued with my lifestyle, I would wind up in prison or dead.
None of you know me, but at the time I had never a) drank alcohol b) smoked a cigarette c) even seen any sort of illegal drugs, and this was very much known by pretty much everyone in my school, I mean, the assistant principal had me drive his son home from school many times that same year.
But they had an “extremely reliable source” that I was the ringleader of an acid trafficking operation in my high school. Mmk.
While I have continued with a very similar lifestyle (I don’t drink, do drugs or other illicit activities, and go to church most weekends), I haven’t yet wound up in prison.
But I was a) searched and put in the back of a trooper’s car when pulled over for going 47 in a 35 b) pulled over & me/my car searched for not having a front license plate on my ’90 Celica All-Trac and c) my dad was pulled over for “dark window tint” and asked about the contents of envelopes he was mailing that were on the passenger seat…he was driving my ’87 CRX at the time. (If you’re curious, the envelopes contained letters for a church fundraiser).
In my 1971 Datsun 510 we were on a remote highway in Northern California driving to the 2023 Overcrest Rally. With my 82-year-old father in the passenger seat and my 6-year-old son in the back we were cruising along some wet winding road talking about mountains and pine trees. We come around a corner and the oncoming California High Patrol spots us and their lights turn on instantly. They turned around and I found the closest gravel pullout telling my car “I’m getting pulled over.” As he approached the vehicle my son was waving to him, he kindly waved back. It was the first time I have been pulled over with my son, he was excited and of course I was nervous.
Officer: “Do you know why I pulled you over?”
Me: “No.”
Officer: “You were speeding, I got you at 75 in a 55 and it’s wet out”
Me: “Sorry officer, I didn’t realize. We were just talking about trees”
Officer: “Where are you headed?”
Me: “Boise, Idaho”
Officer: “IN THIS!? It must run pretty good”
Me: “Yeah, it does well.”
He kindly let us go and told us to slow down. I paid more attention to speed as we had a good distance to cover to our hotel stop.
Fast forward a week, we found ourselves on an isolated and very narrow backroad in the same region. We come around a corner and spot a California High Patrol parked with their lights on. Our car was curious and then spotted an overturned logging truck blocking most of the road. As we approached, we spotted the same officer from the previous week as I unrolled my window.
Officer: “Didn’t I pull you over?”
Me: “Yes you did”
Officer: “Glad you made it, drive safe.”
The rally was amazing and backroad exploring with my dad and son was something I will never forget.
Just one about parking location, since I’m brazilian:
I was just arriving at the shopping mall, when the officer in the other side of the street inside his car blipped on the siren. He spotted me, but pointed to the upper parking spot. It was mostly like a thumbs up warning. I just started the car and moved to the upper spot. Nothing really serious, like two friends watching for each other (as all police men should be, since they are humans as well). I guess he sent some tickets for a few cars parked in the lower spot (the place is a very long avenue) that day (who knows, there were other cars parked ahead and behind my first spot option…).
But, sincerely, I got really wiser when I had and accident a few years after that and really don’t believe in “good faith” as propaganda coming from most people. I look at distance for parkings, avenues, radars and neighborhoods. Simply saying, this kind of chance meeting someone with stable moral beliefs is rare and I’m really educated like a japanese. That day I knew I had a light on my life, keeping me away from trouble. My Opel Corsa still original and doesn’t get attention in traffic. Another stealthy “grey/white/black” car from the 1990s and I’m not planning on changing it. Maybe a 2.0 litre OHC with twin-turbo and 6-speed, but that’s for life to decide on my future.
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I really don’t like to get attention on the streets like some of you do, and you don’t want me to know that you’re messing with the wrong kid through any mistake. I can be docile like a plushy even if I live the life of a “Yak” associate/member. I go after people, not even women escape from my stubborness. I can believe in your mistake, but not for very long or all the time.