BLITHERING, BUMBLING, AND RAMBLING #19

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING

Back when I was a freshman in High School, I was talking to a guy at the start of class who told me he had to leave because he had to go to court.  This was a conversation starter I had never had before, so naturally, there were questions.  As I asked, others leaned in around us to hear about what happened.  The guy was only 16 at the time, so we knew he wasn’t on jury duty.

So I asked, why he had to go.  His answer was, he and another guy had gone out one night and decided to steal a traffic sign.  Not just any traffic sign, one of the ones on the collapsible frame, with a flashing yellow light.   So, of course, I had to ask why they had to have that one.  He explained that they wanted to put it in their room at home, as kind of a notch above all their friends who just had stolen signs with street names on them. They were stealing two signs, one for each guy, because they didn’t want to share.

So someone behind me asks why they didn’t see the cops coming.  Well, he says, we didn’t get caught at the scene, they pulled us over about ten miles away.  So why did they pull you over, I ask, did they see the signs sticking out somewhere?  Oh no, he says, we weren’t that stupid, we had the signs tucked down in the back seat out of sight.  We waited for an explanation, and he continued.  There is a button on the bottom of the lights which is a shutoff switch he says.  They didn’t know about that, so they put coats around the lights to cover it up, but every bump in the road made the frames bounce and the coats move and yellow light brightly glowed and filled the inside of the car with each flash.  Their response to the light flashing was to drive faster, glowing yellow the whole way.

Just a short distance from arriving home, a sheriff’s deputy spots the speeding/blinking car and pulls them over.  A hilarious conversation ensues as they try to explain how they “found” the signs and were on their way to return them, when, lucky them, had the good fortune of running into a sheriff’s deputy!  The deputy reached into the car and shut off the flashing yellow lights.  “Ahhhhh” the two master criminals said in response to this new information.

Somehow, even now, I can’t see a set of those lights without getting a mental picture of that flashing yellow almost-getaway car.m

YOU WANT FAKE FRIES WITH THAT?

There were times when I decided to try meat alternatives.  Most, as you can imagine, don’t taste anything like meat.  I mean, not even close.  If you haven’t explored this area of cuisine yet, start with the fake burgers : it ranges from hamburgers made with nuts, beans, lentils, chickpeas, tofu, jackfruit, soy, seitan,, tempeh, and the lists go on.  Several of them look remarkably like meat, which draws you in to try it.  But one bite usually decides it all, though there are those fake meat vendors who insist that theirs  are like the real deal. (Ohhh,you LIARS!)

The two biggest barriers to success are taste and texture.  Do any of them taste just like meat?  In my opinion, no.  Do any look like it?-sure.  Do they have the texture?-  some, not many, have gotten this part  down.  I tried the Nut Burger, the Veggie Burger, the Black Bean Burger,  Lentil Patties, the Impossible Burger, and Beyond Meat (really, that’s the name of it) Results varied, for the most part I was disappointed.  A lot of them fell apart into a hundred pieces when you bit in.  Some were too gummy because of the ingredients. Yes, a texture issue to the extreme.  

To be honest, when you go out with a group of friends and order a non-meat burger, there is usually at least one member of the group that wonders why.  Not that your friends fear vegetarians, a lot are just curious about what the reason is, and often they are even more inquisitive about just what the heck is in that thing.  Good question, some of the answers might surprise you.

After much exploration, I found one that I really liked.  Meat-like, tasty, and to be fair, the accompanying condiments made the gap between it and the carnivore world a lot closer.  It came from a vegetarian place here in town.   It is by far the best I have tried, and I would eat it in place of meat, anytime.  But, and here it comes…..

The service at this vegetarian place can best be described as  lackadaisical .  It takes a long time for them to perform even the simplest tasks, and the concept of hustle is not there.  I, perhaps foolishly, have been going back for a few years now, and each and every time, ended up standing at the counter waiting for at least triple the amount of time they said it would take.  We would call in our orders, wait 15 minutes past the time given, and still find that our order didn’t even start till we arrived.  And yet, yes I keep going back, because you won’t find a meatless burger as good as theirs, anywhere.  Kind of like being the only oasis in the middle of 100 miles of desert.

So my search continues for meatless burger alternatives, with service please.  I think I’m gonna try the Quorn burger next.  Yes, way!  I find myself with new found sympathy for vegetarians.  They certainly are patient people.  And as some have so kindly pointed out to me, vegetarian burgers are not, and never will be, fast food.  So the next time you’re in a restaurant and see somebody patiently waiting for their order long after everyone else in line has ordered and eaten and probably left, throw a sympathetic word their way.  Their bean sprout burger is still gonna be awhile.

WHAT IS THAT NOISE?

Back in 1981 when I was working in Wheatland, I was nearing the end of a fairly boring shift when I got a request from Lincoln P.D. to pickup a guy they had who was wanted on a warrant out of our county.  Sure I said, I hadn’t done much all shift, and there was another officer riding with me who said why not, nothing happening anyway.  So we headed South.  

We were about a half mile from the meeting spot when a car coming in the opposite direction swerved over the center line into my lane, and I had to veer off the road to avoid a head-on crash.  Ok, adrenaline was pumping now.  I spun around and turned my lights on and went after the car.  It pulled over, we pulled in behind it and radioed dispatch that we were going to be delayed in meeting Lincoln P.D.  As we were getting out of the car, the other car accelerated and spewed dirt and gravel on ours as it took off at high speed.  We radioed in that we were now in pursuit of the car, and headed back towards Wheatland.  I turned on the siren.

We weren’t too far from Wheatland and the guy we were chasing blew through town at 80+ and we did our best to catch up.   Wheatland being a small town, we were past it in less than a minute and headed towards Marysville.  We continued this way for several minutes, no other cops anywhere near us, but all of them in the Bi-county area hearing it on the radio.  We saw that there were two guys in the car, and based on their hand gestures towards us, it was obvious this wasn’t going to end soon.

The car pulled off the highway on Lindhurst Ave and the chase continued through Yuba County in the Linda area.  Still no other cops in sight.  As we were nearing Marysville, the car got back onto the Highway and a Yuba County Sheriff’s car joined the chase.  As we were crossing the bridge over the river into Marysville a highway patrol car joined in too.  It was at this point my siren died.  Aw crap, I said. I told dispatch I would have to fall back due to siren failure.  As the other officer with me muttered “Aw crap is right”, I fiddled with the siren switch.

FUN FACT YOU PROBABLY DIDN’T KNOW:  On the old patrol cars there were 3 siren modes:  1) standard - which is the one that died.  2) hi-lo- the annoying one the Europeans use,  and , 3) warble- which is used to cleared intersections.  Yeah, none of those worked. BUT…..

Wheatland was a city of limited fiscal resources, and didn’t throw anything away until it rotted, rusted or burned.  So our old (probably came over on the Mayflower) siren box contained a fourth mode.   Nobody ever used it, most didn’t ever turn the switch that far.  So, of course, why not?  I switched to mode 4 as I was slowing down and dropping back, and IT. CAME. BACK.  Yeah!    Making a sound that was a very high pitched deedle -le-dee metallic squark that really stood out from the sounds emanating from the other patrol cars ahead of me with standard sirens.  I put the gas pedal to the floor and rejoined the chase.  

Marysville PD joined in the chase, which was now headed towards the bridge over the river and into Yuba City.  Patiently waiting on the other side of the bridge were three Yuba City police cars who had been listening intently with fingers crossed.  And they were rewarded for their patience- into Yuba City we went.  A few  blocks in, the Sutter County Sheriff’s office jumped in, and as we neared the Sutter County Fairgrounds the car we were chasing finally made a turn too wide and crashed into a pest control van, knocking part of the giant plastic bug on top of it off its mounting.  Classic, huh?  

As the two occupants of the car made the foolish move to come out of the car swinging, a LOT, LOT, LOT, of cops descended on them and took them into custody.  And then they were placed into my car.  And as we were preparing to leave, 3 different guys asked me what the heck was wrong with my siren.  One said it sounded like an ice cream truck had joined the pursuit.  Which, of course, made the two prisoners in the back say they got chased down by the Wheatland Ice Cream Truck.  It took a few months for that nickname to go away.  But now, sure, I chuckle about it.  The guy I was riding with nicknamed them as the prisoners from the Cockroach Crash. 

THE BIG SPILL

My wedding Day, and the reception is being  held at the Eagles Hall.  The event has been catered by our friends Mario and Alba, who have done a flawless job.  Food is being gobbled, drinks are flowing, and the music has started.  A lot of people there. Everything has fallen into place so far….

A loud crash.  Everything stops for a few seconds as all eyes focus on the stairs where a young man has stumbled, and fallen to the floor, by the stairway entrance into the room.  But the crash sound was not from him, it was from the metal tray he had been carrying. Olives, and lots of them, rolled across the floor from the tray.  The guy on the floor scrambles to his feet quickly, scurrying to clean up the debris.  To his further embarrassment, the crowd applauds.  If I remember correctly, the guy was Mario’s nephew, who blushed at the reaction, and apologized profusely after it happened.

Not a problem, we said, all was back on track in a matter of two minutes.  And for years afterward, whenever we met up with Mario and Alba again, we relived that moment.  And we said how it was actually, a blessing in disguise.  The Eagles Hall was on the second floor, and the only way up was on the stairs.  When we rented the place we worried about our elder relatives climbing those stairs.  We also had concerns about people drinking upstairs on the bar and then descending the stairs.  But after that everybody grabbed the railing and told each other, be careful.  No slips, no slides.

And as Alba and Mario reminded us for years afterward, they had a fair amount of leftover olives.  A fond memory, a helpful safety guide for our guests, and yeah, every time I open a jar of olives I think back to my wedding day.  What?