As I wiggled my way onto the backseat of the cruiser, my hands uncomfortably cuffed behind my back, I bowed my head to my chin and slowly shook it side to side and wondered what had I done to deserve such a fate.(WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU KIDDING YOU KNUCKLEHEAD? YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID AND YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING YOU ARE GETTTING. IDIOT ) I looked up for a brief moment and turned toward the car which had wrecked my bike and now provided a safe haven for my crippled assailant.

Disgusted stares were being shot my way, but I sat expressionless and looked directly at the old man. For some strange reason it appeared to me that he was actually trying to avoid all the attention being directed his way, seemingly pushing away helping hands and hurriedly trying to reattach his leg by himself.

I watched with increasing curiosity as a second highway patrol cruiser pulled up behind his baby blue Olds. Approaching the car with caution and gun drawn, the patrolman directed the crowd to “move along as there was nothing to see here”. The old man shut his car door and tried thank the officer for his services which really weren’t need, but before he could even get his key into the ignition , the beleaguered senior found himself staring into the barrel of the officer’s revolver.

“Show me your hands and get out of the car – – NOW”, ordered the sharp-dressed rookie cop.

(WHAT THE EVERLOVIN FUCK WAS GOING ON? HOW MUCH TRAMA COULD THE POOR OLD MAN ENDURE? HADNT I DONE ENOUGH TO RUIN HIS DAY AND POSSIBLY HIS LIFE?)

On the verge of tears, or so I imagined, the old man pounded the steering wheel in a similar fashion as he had done just minutes ago when I absent-mindedly sat through several traffic light rotations. As the officer carefully opened the door of the car, gun still pointing at the old man’s head, the crusty old veteran , hands up and begging not to be shot, swiveled to exit the car once again dislodging his peg leg from his hip.

By this time the patrolman’s partner emerged from the cruiser to assist the man, rather roughly, or so I imagined. He lifted him out of the car, leg falling to the ground, AGAIN, turned him toward his own vehicle, pressed him securely against the door so the one -legged man would not tip over, placed one then the other hand on his head and applied a pair of handcuffs. While he began reading the old man his rights, the officer with his gun drawn replaced his revolver in his holster and picked up the old man’s prosthesis shaking it as he turned it upside down.