Sunday night, after I had filled up my twelve gallon tank at Speedway
at Airport and M-59, a power line that had dropped cut the lights at
the intersection and plunged the Speedway into darkness. This was
enough to throw off one driver's game, and a disabled car stood in the
left turn lane, attended by Waterford Township police and a tow truck.
A more capable car, showing the crunchy signs of collision, idled in a
nearby parking lot, being worked upon by two men with the hood up,
looking into the engine compartment. The parking lot of the Clarkston Union had filled with Sports Utility
Vehicles. Monday night, the General Motors enclave had money in their
pockets for the Christmas season, and every table inside the former
church had revelers drinking and celebrating. My daughter and I didn't
want to wait and we squeezed by two big vehicles to get out of the
backlot. If I weren't driving a much smaller Kia Soul, I'm not sure
how we could have passed one another. I'm always fascinated by the strategy and tactics of police officers
in their cruisers. Late Monday night, at the junction of M-59 & Grand
River Road, where M-59 joins I-94 heading west, two Impala cruisers
were working the junction. The cruisers had the markings of the
Livingston County Sheriff. One accelerated off towards Fowlerville at
an impressive rate of speed, vanishing into the dark on Grand River
Road. One followed my Kia Soul onto the freeway, passed and began
tailing a car continuing toward Lansing. I noted my speed of 70 and I
noticed the car and its tail moving faster than that. The crusier
flashed its lights, the car flicked on its right turn signals, and
changed lanes into the right lane. And the cruiser sped off toward
Fowlerville, too. A few minutes before, as I had left the parking lot
of the 7-11, I looked over to the Livingston County airport and I
noticed a big block M on the tail fin of the aircraft, the mark of the
University of Michigan. Sure of it. I heard jet turbines, or so it
seemed to me, and the craft vanished like the police cruisers into the
night. I cannot remember exactly when and where I saw him, but on a cold
night with dark incumbent, a man peddled his bicycle through the
median of the Dixie Highway, and he had nothing on him that reflected
light, and his bicycle had no product markings at all, an old ten
speed that moved awkwardly. Tuesday morning, not long after the stroke of Midnight, I pulled into
the parking lot of the Days Inn on the western side of Lansing, I
counted no more than 20 cars in a lot that could hold many times that
number. I like the desk clerk, but she couldn't find my reservation
quickly, and when she found it, she used a magnifying glass to read
it. Behind me, it looked as if a mother and her two boys were checking
in without luggage.
at Airport and M-59, a power line that had dropped cut the lights at
the intersection and plunged the Speedway into darkness. This was
enough to throw off one driver's game, and a disabled car stood in the
left turn lane, attended by Waterford Township police and a tow truck.
A more capable car, showing the crunchy signs of collision, idled in a
nearby parking lot, being worked upon by two men with the hood up,
looking into the engine compartment. The parking lot of the Clarkston Union had filled with Sports Utility
Vehicles. Monday night, the General Motors enclave had money in their
pockets for the Christmas season, and every table inside the former
church had revelers drinking and celebrating. My daughter and I didn't
want to wait and we squeezed by two big vehicles to get out of the
backlot. If I weren't driving a much smaller Kia Soul, I'm not sure
how we could have passed one another. I'm always fascinated by the strategy and tactics of police officers
in their cruisers. Late Monday night, at the junction of M-59 & Grand
River Road, where M-59 joins I-94 heading west, two Impala cruisers
were working the junction. The cruisers had the markings of the
Livingston County Sheriff. One accelerated off towards Fowlerville at
an impressive rate of speed, vanishing into the dark on Grand River
Road. One followed my Kia Soul onto the freeway, passed and began
tailing a car continuing toward Lansing. I noted my speed of 70 and I
noticed the car and its tail moving faster than that. The crusier
flashed its lights, the car flicked on its right turn signals, and
changed lanes into the right lane. And the cruiser sped off toward
Fowlerville, too. A few minutes before, as I had left the parking lot
of the 7-11, I looked over to the Livingston County airport and I
noticed a big block M on the tail fin of the aircraft, the mark of the
University of Michigan. Sure of it. I heard jet turbines, or so it
seemed to me, and the craft vanished like the police cruisers into the
night. I cannot remember exactly when and where I saw him, but on a cold
night with dark incumbent, a man peddled his bicycle through the
median of the Dixie Highway, and he had nothing on him that reflected
light, and his bicycle had no product markings at all, an old ten
speed that moved awkwardly. Tuesday morning, not long after the stroke of Midnight, I pulled into
the parking lot of the Days Inn on the western side of Lansing, I
counted no more than 20 cars in a lot that could hold many times that
number. I like the desk clerk, but she couldn't find my reservation
quickly, and when she found it, she used a magnifying glass to read
it. Behind me, it looked as if a mother and her two boys were checking
in without luggage.
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