Have you ever noticed that almost every part of your Amazon has a Volvo part number on it? The other night as Keith and I were sanding on my engine compartment, I started picking pebbles out of the frame and commented, "I wonder if these are the only thing keeping it structurally sound?" When we finally got one of those rocks out of there and looked at it closely, sure enough... Volvo part number two!

Shawn was following me home the other night. He was driving his Amazon wagon and I was in my Toyota pickup (red, that is). I was minding my own business when I saw that two police cars were approaching from the opposite direction at a high rate of speed with the lights blaring. Well, I did the same as everyone else and pulled over to let them fly by, then went about my business once more.

That's when I noticed that headlights were approaching me from behind, into oncoming traffic. "Whoever that is has lost their mind!" is the only thought that came to me... until I saw that the headlights were attached to a pushbar and light rack. Uh oh. I start thinking of what I could have possibly done wrong. Hmmm. I didn't signal when I pulled over to let them by, that must be it. Only problem was that when the light bar came on, I realized it was actually two police cars. I started to sweat. How bad is not signaling?

It occured to me, as guns were being drawn and the police yelled at me to "Put your hands out where we can see them and DON'T MOVE!!!!" that having no signals was the least of my worries. As one officer was holding his gun on me at the driver's side, two more rushed (and I don't mean sauntered or moseyed), but rushed the passenger's side to search the cab. I realized they were more than serious when I (with hands not moving) merely glanced to the passenger's side to hear one officer yelling to the others, "He's looking around!"

I didn't move a muscle after that; something about the tension in his voice and the drawn weapon told me that even breathing might be a bad idea. The back of my mind was all the while thinking, "Yea, you should have fixed those turn signals." After what seemed like an eternity, the officers on the passenger's side reported that I had nothing in the cab. Is that good or bad?

I think my sphincter unpuckered a little when they hopped into the second police car and tore off in the opposite direction with lights on full-tilt-boogie. The now much more relaxed (and not holding a gun) officer stepped up to ask me if I had by any chance been at a particular pub. I think I gave him a convincing nervous laugh (which, in retrospect, was an honest nervous laugh), and told him that I had no idea where that pub even was and asked him what was going on.

"Got a report of a man leaving this pub in a red Toyota pickup waving a shotgun around. Didn't get a license plate number."

The back of my mind popped up again... only this time it wasn't dispensing any smartass advice, it was just laughing hysterically. The officer checked my license, called it in and appologized for inconveniencing me. Is that what they call making you pee your pants now-a-days, "inconveniencing?"

I started the truck back up and John, Paul, George and Ringo chimed in to tell me that "Mean Mister Mustard sleeps in the dark..." Well, good for him, I was a little too wound up to sleep, light or dark. By the time I got home (keeping in mind that my eternity was all of maybe two or three minutes total), Shawn had put two and two together.

"Fit the description?"

"Yep." We had a good laugh.

By now, you may be wondering why I would write this story for the Volvo community (since the only mention of a Volvo was a while ago and a lot happened since then). The whole point of the story is this: If I would have been in one of my Amazons or my PV, they wouldn't have noticed I even existed. So, the next time you head out to the corral to decide what to drive, go for the Volvo; I know I will!

By the way, if you all know of anyone looking for a red Toyota pickup, I just so happen to have one for sale.

Photo: "Yardcars" by Teague Oviatt