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Well, that was interesting: chasing a drunk driver (whose truck is pouring out smoke from the brakes) at high speeds from interstate to surface roads, calling the police to box us in and stop us, and then finding out the drunk is tied to a solid hit and run several miles away.
Scary, upsetting, and somewhat rewarding once the shivers of the lane-changing, curb-hitting, dust-kicking idiocy were brought to a halt.
Enjoy the jail time, loser.
Update: Despite all the jokes about cops and doughnut shops, within 90 seconds of my call to 911 three police units converged on us from three different directions. Impressive. Unless we now need jokes about cops and naps on side streets.
Update 2: Retropolitan, no cape this time. I was in "Captain Underpants" mode.
