Late one night a radio call comes out for "shots fired". I was working the far south side of the city, the officer calling it out was working the far north side. He also was (and is) my best friend.
I got on the freeway to head north, and stepped on it. I remember thinking at one point, "Gee, it seems like I'm going pretty fast". I checked the speedometer: 130 mph. "Gosh, that is fast." I got off the freeway and onto a long straight semi-rural 4-lane. Another check of the speedo: 90 mph. OK, that'll work.
I came screaming on scene, jumped out, and took cover behind a tree. It was pitch black, and hard to see what was happening. Eventually, we call the guy outside and get him on his front lawn, face-down and spread-eagle on the ground. He's cuffed up and into a squad car.
Turns out he's a local college professor, who was fire-forming hunting ammo in his garage. The neighbors got freaked out and called us.
It was fun while it lasted, though.
I'm there for ya', buddy!
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