Stortzfest was in full effect in Avalon, NJ 2007, and I was out of my freshman year of college ready to rage. Obviously I couldn’t go to the bar with Tom, Wagon, Rock and whoever else was there, so I had make my own fun. I found a house party to go to about 50 blocks away that was a friend of a friend. Politely I asked Nancy if I could use her bike to head down there because I knew I would have some drinks…she obliged as always for some reason.
The party was wild…I was bumming over some girl which just fueled my incredible ability to drink myself retarded without puking; then by the end of the night I was basically walking in circles back to my bike to head on home. About halfway in, riding down a main road in Avalon, I happened to notice an oncoming police car. I tried my best not to swerve, but I knew that I was a potential target as I wasn’t wearing a helmet and it was 3am. I glanced back in the road to see if I made a clean getaway, and this is where things went south. The police car was doing a “U” turn! PANIC!!!!!!
Understand that I am, and always have been, completely confident in my ability to evade police at all costs. I’m fast, athletic, and smart enough to know when to make my move. I always know where the exit is in any party I attend and I intentionally hang near it depending on the threat level. I have hidden in thorn bushes, jumped fences that must have been 2 or 3 stories high, and literally laid face down in mud to keep from getting an underage drinking citation in high school. But back to the story…
PANIC!!!! Once I saw that “U” turn being made I kicked it as hard as I possibly could to the nearest cross block. I was flying! My intention was to fly into a back yard, quietly of course, and to hide out until the cop gave up searching for me. Instead…..BOOOMMMM! I had no idea what hit me! I literally went from 20 mph entering a sidewalk ramp, to wincing in pain on the ground while my bike laid next to me like a dead steed. Turns out that the sidewalk entrance ramp was not really a ramp. Ya know, the kind that just have a curb to step onto because some dumbass was too lazy to make it a slope. There are probably a total of 5 of these babies in Avalon, and of course I sought out the one when biking drunk into the abyss. I was hurt. I was really hurt. But even more so, I was determined not to end up in the holding cell that night.
I painfully pulled myself off the ground and grabbed the handlebars in a attempt to salvage the bike in this chase. The police officer must have had a block or two to drive until he would see this pathetic scene. I had to ditch the bike….my mother would be so upset tomorrow morning. The tire was a little mangled, so I just drug the bike into the front lawn of the corner house and left it laying on the rocks as I made my move to the fence to continue my GTA style getaway. “There’s no time for finding the gate” I thought to myself as I knew I was about to be spotted. I jumped the fence in a drunken fashion and plopped on the other side. If my bike wasn’t in this person’s front yard, I might have been safe where I was. Instead I had to get on with the chase on foot…
My initial foot speed is relatively slow for a collegiate track runner, but I swear, I was like a cheetah trying to run in sandals on these backyard rocks. About 6 steps in it was as if The Big Bossman himself clotheslined me back down on my back. I know you are thinking that the cop had outsmarted me here, but it’s not the case. This person literally had a clothesline in their backyard, and I ran fullspeed, neck first into it. I got up slowly this time. My injuries were adding up and I wasn’t sure that I could, or should, try to continue this torturous attempt to beat the law. I started a sad limp-jog type movement toward the back fence to get on with my quest when, what do ya know, I was clotheslined again. WHO NEEDS THAT MANY LINES OF CLOTHES TO DRY IN ONE TINY HOUSE! Buy a god damn dryer! I kinda remember thinking that I ought to just stop and bury myself in the rocks and maybe he won’t find me. Instead I crawled to the back fence in agony and pulled myself over like a fat kid trying to get over a gate. On the other side I had to walk through a neighbor’s yard and took refuge in a bush. This is where I called my trusty brother and his hero of a friend Chad to come pick me up. Chad claims I was crying when I made that call. I can assure you I was not.
Needs more pics of Jeff