Ribs For Lunch, Bacon For Dinner

This summer has seen an all-time high in Max Kuehn police encounters. Last summer I was pulled over once, during race weekend, for "swerving within my own lane." No ticket, but the insurance company did find out about me and started charging my parents for an extra driver. Whump whump. However, tonight I hit police encounter number three for the summer. While my experience with Capelle in the Wal-Mart parking lot was far funnier, this one was easily the dumbest.

Here's the scene: After a farewell evening of skulking aboot with Sam and Josh, I was on my way home. Just past St. Francis, there was a large collection of squad cars with lights a-blazin'. A group of teens stood and watched the action; when I drove past, I discerned among them a certain Mr. Christopher Oslund, wearing a knit pink cap and tight pinstripe vest. I said "hey" and he said "hey." Mr. Oslund then chose to sprint after my car, and I did the only logical thing: I accelerated away from him for about a quarter block. I continued driving to the end of the block when I noticed a red and blue light had come on the car behind me. The cop (a big fat white guy, shocker I know) shined his light on me, and I said "I'M STROKIN'!" But seriously folks, he gave me a warning for "squealing my tires." Goddamn you Chris Oslund and your pink knit cap.

P.S.: If my wife is sufficiently awesome, the first dance at my wedding will be The Clash's "Lover's Rock." If she also possesses a keen sense of irony, dance # 2 will be Clarence Carter's "Strokin'."

P.P.S.:I hope someone gets the joke in this post's title.