Showing posts with label crime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crime. Show all posts

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Rep. Giffords

As most of you probably know by now, Arizona Democrat Gabrielle Giffords survived a horrific gunshot wound to the head on Saturday in Tucson at a public event. Many others, including a 9 year-old girl and a federal judge, were not even that fortunate, if you can call it that. I'm sure Rep. Giffords has a long, difficult recovery ahead.

What you may not know about Rep. Giffords is that she is co-chair of the Congressional Motorcycle Caucus (I didn't even know such a caucus existed!), and rides motorcycles and scooters, and she owns a 1963 Vespa GS with sidecar that she parks in her living room.

In the spirit of wishing her a speedy and full recovery, I'm going to send her the small scale model pictured above, with my best wishes. It's no GS, for sure, but hopefully she won't be offended.
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Saturday, September 13, 2008

Now Nearly FIVE Dollar Footlongs

Posted yesterday at the cat blog. Less than 20 hours later, the price went from $3.999 to $4.699.

I gotta say, this is alarming. This is at my nearby new Pilot station, who throughout the summer, held prices at $3.699/gallon or lower for the most part. As far as I know, it's about as cheap as one can buy on the west side of town.

Oil closed today at around $103/bbl. The second it spikes upward $10/bbl, every gas station jacks the price 5-20 cents/gallon of gasoline.

When I was 16, gasoline was below $1/gallon. I recall paying $0.699/gallon, at that time (yes, I remember the panic that gas stations went through when they had no digit to the left of the decimal on the pump... have you recently seen one of those "$1" stickers?). All the pumps' displays were analog -- big, Bakelite wheels with numbers and tick marks, white on black. Most places had no "self-service" -- you pulled in, a guy cleaned your windshield, pumped your gas, and didn't expect a tip! Sometimes, they'd offer to empty your trash or ashtray, or do a quick vacuum of the front floorboard.

Granted, minimum wage was $2.85/hr., and I was working a job that paid $3.15/hr. I lived at home, went to school (walked, every day, or later rode with a friend -- never drove myself to school, ever), and drove my dad's 1978 Pontiac Bonneville some evenings and weekends... 400 cubic inches of four-barreled Detroit fury. It was fast, fun, and a complete gas hawg, the way I drove it (sorry, Dad). :)

Fast-forward to 2008. Now, the largest engine I own is 250cc, and it gets over 65mpg on its worst day. I use that scooter about 10% of the time, these days, preferring the 50cc Yamaha Vino, which is even more conservative on fuel use.

Folx, we HAVE to re-think this petroleum-based global goatfuck. If we don't, it won't be long before many millions of people die, both trying to defend and/or acquire (read: steal) what's left out there to be had, cheaply.

I think what we're seeing right now is a near-last-gasp, record-breaking profit-taking, through sheer greed and indifference to the needs of future generations. We have to stop this madness.
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Wednesday, June 11, 2008

"That's My Moped!"

Oh -- almost forgot.

I put some gas in the Vino at the Pilot @ Centennial and Briley, last night. A dude approached me, asking the usual scooter questions. Then he said, "Where did you get that?"

"From a private individual."

"That's my moped, man! It was stolen not too long ago!"

"Well, okay. I've had it since April, 2007, and have a title. Go call the cops, and they'll check it out for you."

"No, man... I know that's my moped!"

"Like I said, call the cops -- 862-8600. West Precinct is just a few miles from here; they'll have a car out here in under 20 minutes. I'll wait for 'em. Look -- here's the VIN number. Write it down, call the cops..."

"Naw, man. Naw. It just looks like my moped. [pause] Man, I know that's mine."

"Here is the VIN. Follow. My. Finger. Dood. [pointing, then prying off plastic frame cover] If it's yours, that VIN number will prove it."

"Naw, man. Forget it. Forget it. I don't wanna call no cops."

"Well, that's the only way to settle it, 'cause I'm sure as hell not giving you my scooter!"

Guy turns and goes into the store. I leave without incident.
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Monday, March 17, 2008

The Vino, On Closer Inspection

Some damage, yes.

• Broken tail light lens
• Broken speedo glass
• Scratched front fender and side panel

Still runs like a scalded monkey, though.
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Wednesday, March 5, 2008

BOLO: Scooter Thieving Bastiges

So, about 11:35 p.m., I'm watching the primaries crap... and I hear something outside that doesn't sound right. I go out on the balcony, and there's one dude shutting the back door of a beat, early '90s maroon Ford Aerostar or Windstar van, and then bolting for the passenger's side door. The Vino is gone.

I holler at the top of my lungs, "Stop, motherfuckers! You're goin' to jail! You're goin' to jail!" as they squeal out and nearly wreck pulling out of my section of the parking lot. A few feet later, I see stuff flying out the back of the van.

I call the local non-emergency number for the cops, and describe what happened, as I pulled on my shoes and coat, and head outside. I start walking the direction of where the thieves have just gone, a minute earlier, and I'm still on the phone; the dispatcher is asking me all kinds of silly shit, like, "Do you have the VIN number?" Yeah, I have all that right here, right now, sure.

I get a few more yards down the lot, and I see a guy approaching me: "Hey, is that your scooter?"

"Yeah... or I guess it was my scooter!"

"No, man -- I heard you yellin', and it must've scared the shit out of 'em, 'cause they tossed it out of the van -- over here!"

Sure enough, there's the Vino, laying in the parking lot on its side. The left mirror and control pod are twisted around (a 5 min. fix), but I think it's relatively undamaged, otherwise. No broken plastic that I could see, and it landed opposite the exhaust, so I got a break, there. Once the cops were finished with it, I picked it up, and it started on the first try.

The best part? They couldn't get a print off the side panel, where it was obviously grabbed... too smudged. They did, however, get a great print off the tallboy beer can that came out of the van as they sped off.

So, if you're a thievin' fuckhead with a maroon, early '90s Ford van, you best watch your shit, and not get caught for anything where you need to be fingerprinted. Or, you better hope they lose the files from any other felonies you've committed, 'cause you're pretty much fucked when the cops catch up to you. I can ID you, and I will prosecute to the fullest.
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