We leave the safety of pavement and guardrails to try our luck on the loose dirt and gravel of southern culture.  Eyes frantically scan the horizon for someplace to hide, a bush, a barn, a cow… anything.  By now Paul is sitting up and staring out the rear window, rubbing his eye sockets incredulously.  Michael is fully awake and has rightly damned us all to the nether reaches of hell.  Chuck and I are babbling, foaming at the mouth, speaking in tongues, trying to explain to our cargo how this alarming predicament came about.  Gazing aft, we can all clearly see the 5 State Patrol cars, having found holes in the median to squirm through, racing down the highway in pursuit, rodents in line behind our piper.  Flying up the off ramp, downshifting through 4th and 3rd, we fishtail onto CR129, throwing dirt like the Dukes of Hazard with Roscoe P. Coltrain in hot pursuit.
  What is obvious is that we will not be able to escape the outstretched, inbred arm of the law for long.  We race for a mile or two down a winding tree lined country road before cooler heads begin to prevail from the rear.  Chuck is finally convinced to pull over and pay up.  We see a Wal-Mart ahead; parking lot packed full with early Sunday shoppers.  Chuck and I look each other in the eye, there could be no better place to turn ourselves in... horrifying as many people in this fetid stink hole as possible.  We enter the parking lot with wild screeching tires, Chuck slams the breaks hard, executing a perfect 180 and spinning to a halt in the outer recesses of the parking lot…
  Within seconds we are surrounded by patrol cars, each coming rest so that we are completely boxed in with no hope of escape.  Barrel-chested, slack jawed invertebrates assume the classic kill pose, hiding behind open car doors, guns trained on our thick skulls... lights dancing red and blue in the cool morning air.  We decide that it would be best to freeze.
  After a few tense moments the troopers decide to make their move.  The largest one, apparently with the most hair on his back and knuckles, approaches the driver side window, gun drawn.  Seeing we are unarmed, he holsters his sidearm and reaches his enormous hands through the window, pulling Chuck out of the car.  “Son, you are going to jail.”  I never saw Charlie again…
  bmw, the ultimate crying machine.