• A scruffy looking blonde man sprinted up to the red four door truck. Reached though the window of the driver’s side, pulled the keys out of the ignition, opened the door of the truck and grabbed me.
    “What the hell is wrong with you!” he yelled at me.
    I could already see the speeding cop car blaring red and blue flashes, coming up the street. I was speechless, worried, and scared shitless. Sure that I was going to jail or something worse.
    The bald fat police officer opened the door of his patrol car, stepping on the cement of the street, looked up and started walking toward the man and me. He stopped in front of me, which was in the middle of the green lush yard with fresh tire marks in it.
    The cop glared at me and said, “You have got some explaining to do.”
    Earlier that morning, July 21st, the house was desolate place, my sister and mother at work. I don’t know what really came over me before I went into my mother’s chaotic room, went to the drawer, which was full of papers and trash, and took the spare keys of the truck.
    I pulled out of the drive way into the silent, barren street.
    I was sitting in the back of a police car looking thru the metal cage that separated the cop and me, with my hands rubbing nervously on the leg of my pants, the cop asked, “What’s your name?”
    “Alisha Bromley,” I stammered.
    “301 4th ST NW, we are sitting in front of it,” I stated.
    “Whose truck were you driving?”
    “My mothers.”
    “Lisa Bromley”
    “How old are you?”
    “Why did you take your mother’s truck,” he sighed.
    “I was bored,” I lied, “Am I in trouble?”
    Going up and down the street feeling like I was going 60 mph but it was only 25 mph. The twirling of green, black, and red of the street, the grass, and the surrounding cars along the street. I might have swerved a couple times or swiped a car or two. I might have hit the garage with the tailgate of the truck, or almost hit the neighbor’s garage before I hit the brakes. Then three guys came running up to the truck to stop me from doing anymore damage.
    The cop smiled fakely at me, “I am going to call your mom tell her what happened, you are going to have to wait at the police office until your mom comes pick you up since no one is at your house.”
    I quivered my lips and asked, “Can’t I stay at the neighbors house?”
    “I will go ask,” said the cop. The cop got out of the police car, walked to the neighbors house and was talking to them. He came back to the car opened the backseat door of the police car and said, “Your lucky.” He let me out of the car and gave the keys of the truck to my neighbors and left.
    Yeah, I was lucky. I didn’t go to jail, die of seclusion when I was grounded forever, or pay that much money for a new garage door that I might have hit. I realized that some stupid things in life can help you become a little smarter in the things you do in the future. Why I did it is just another secret but let this be known it was the Joy Ride of my life so far.