A mention of mine about crashing into a police station prompted a member to request the full story. Feel free to add your own tales to the mix. Here goes:
I lived in Atlantic City, NJ and I had a collection of stolen highway signs featuring each casino's logo and a directional arrow. I had them for all the casino's except one: Resorts. Those signs were in the bad part of town. I had a whole kit in the trunk for stealing them: milk crates to stack up and stand on, vice grips, bolt cutters, etc. In two minutes I could park, steal, and drive off.
A.C. has two primary north/south one-way streets with traffic speed timed lights at every corner. If you go exactly 25mph you'll never have to stop.
I headed out one night to get that last sign. I was playing the lights by going through them just as they turned green. Unfortunately, fate introduced me to the guy who was playing the lights by going through them just before they turned red on the cross streets.
I saw a white flash, a smack, and a granite wall. I woke up with my engine sitting in the passenger seat and 30 cops looking in the window. The other side of that granite wall was the A.C. Police Station lunch room. I have no complaints about the police response time. They were there immediately.
My front suspension was under the car seats, the engine tore through the firewall, and my hood was on my roof. I never found my glove box or car stereo. I only had a small cut on my head. When they let me out of the hospital at 3am, I walked 3 miles home and couldn't get into my apartment because my keys were still in the ignition. I spent that cold November night after a car crash sleeping on the hard wood of the front porch.
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