I Gotta Call Lewis or Daggett. Stat.

3:45pm on Sunday, February 5th, 2006. I received quite possibly the strangest call of my life. It was an officer from the Winston-Salem Police Department. I forget his exact words, but the executive summary is that I was being investigated for dangerous and reckless driving on University Parkway on Friday, Feb 3rd.

Initially and naturally, panic set in. I know I have a habit of driving "aggressively," but I hadn't done anything recently that would warrant someone actually reporting me.

Immediately after, full relief came when the officer said "GMC Envoy." I don't drive an Envoy. I am the proud driver of "Barbara," my '99 Explorer. The last time I drove an Envoy was in my mom's several months ago. The officer kept talking to me, I'm sure in an effort to make me slip up something. He warned me that should I be found as "The Driver," I would face charges of delaying a police investigation. My response was, in essence, "whatever."

I informed him that my mom does drive a Envoy, so he called her, and proceeded to scare her half to death by starting the conversation with "Hello this is such-and-such with the Winston-Salem Police Department." My mom said that frightened her so much (thinking that I had been arrested, robbed, murdered, etc) she was generally flustered for the rest of the conversation, but she was coherent enough to say that the Envoy never left the garage on Friday, and the last time she drove it in Winston was last weekend. The officer also told her the reason I/her was being investigated was because the witness said the license plate on the Envoy was indeed what my mom's is, so I have to guess it was an out-of-state one or a slight variation. The witness also said the driver had a mohawk hair cut. That one made me laugh.

But, all in all, it looks like I'm in the clear. Not only would I need to be picked out of a lineup, the PD would have to figure out how I managed to make the hour drive to Mooresville, give myself a mohawk, get in the Envoy, drive to W-S, run someone off the road, drive back, de-mohawk myself, and drive to Wake all while my friends, who were with me almost all day, weren't looking. If this were the case, I'd turn myself in. That'd be one hell of an accomplishment.