Catjjy and Sparks Caught Ridin’ Dirty

Yesterday started out just like any other perfect day in our perfect lives. Catjjy and I were taking The Cha out to Muir Beach for some fun in the sun, with a pop by an ancient pub for some beers and tasty lunch. Just as we hopped on the freeway, a state Highway Patrol officer starts jockin’ us. He pulls up right beside me and stares me down. He drifts back behind us and rides my bumper. He rolls up on Catjjy’s side to check her out. Then falls back again. After 5 miles of this he finally flashes his lights and pulls us over.

We were going the speed limit the entire time. Our tags are up to date. Seatbelts on. Not using a cell phone. We had no idea why we're being pulled over. Turns out, our front windows are tinted too dark. We are instructed to remove the tint, and issued a citation that becomes a ticket if we don’t get it taken care of in 30 days.

(not actually our car, but nearly identical)

This seems like the kind of thing that happens to Asian street racers and Cholo gangstas with tricked out Impallas. I bought this car new, right off the lot. No after-market stuff at all. Who knew GM would sell you a car that was not street legal? Could this be part of their problem? (In fairness to GM, we bought the car in a different state, which presumably has different tint laws).

I’m pretty ticked about the whole thing. As a white man, I’m often disadvantaged in life. Graduate schools are harder to get into, I never have the best dance moves at a wedding, and my basketball game is relegated to low-probability jump shots from outside the key. But one thing I do have going for me is the implicit trust of police officers. Suddenly cops are skulking around, trying to catch me ridin’ dirty, just like Chamillionaire. Boooo.