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It ainít easy being indian
Friday, August 24 2012
 
Written by by Ricey Wild,
Average user rating    (1 vote)
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While I was driving to the Risky Raccoon Kasino, being ever hopeful (read: easy to fleece) for a benevolent slot machine, I noticed I was being followed by the Fuzz.† A city squad car kept pace right behind me being all Darth Vader-y menacing.
I knew I hadnít committed any traffic violations so by the time the cop pulled me over I was sure he was racial-profiling. I squiggled out of my car; Iím still wearing a brace on my broken arm, and in high dudgeon approached the offending officer who was sitting in his squad. I got hollered at for not staying in my car and quickly re-inserted myself into my vehicle for fear of getting cuffed up.
So the policeman stuck his big ole head in my window. He scared me! But I didnít let on and took the offensive by asking him why he stopped me? Of course, I assumed it was cuz I drive an older model car with Rez plates that say ďRiceyĒ. First the copper berated me for not staying inside the car. Huh? I didnít know that was procedure, and said, ďWell, Iíve never been stopped before! ď
I have a perfect driving record and I told him that too. He told me in a stern, authoritative tone that I was pulled over for a broken windshield, a pair of fuzzy stuffed pink dice hanging from the rear view mirror and not wearing a seatbelt. Yikes! I repeated that I had never been stopped ever, ever, ever! This I said in a very soft, hurt, bewildered voice and I struggled to arrange my features to be as puzzled puppy-like innocent as I could muster. It wasnít easy.

When the officer of the law left to run my driverís license with whatever Gestapo methods they use I realized real quick-like I better start being very respectful and Ďyes sirí and Ďno sirí him. So the cop comes back, and, get this! He let me go with a warning! I fluttered my long eyelashes in grateful contrition and thanked the very kind, wonderful lawman in a small, sweet voice. Whew, ennit? Quite by accident I made my farewell saying, ďThanks Ociffer!Ē and then winked all flirty at him. OMG. I thought I had just earned a ride to the Grey Bar Hotel, but he just chuckled benignly, telling me to get my windshield fixed, etceteraÖ.
I took a moment to appreciate my catch and release; I am one lucky broad. I continued on to my destination, the Risky Raccoon, and quickly lost all the little money I had on me. When I thought about that incident later I realized I should have just gone home. I had had all the luck I was gonna get that day.
Iím pretty sure that a few of my readers have had a similar experience just for driving around town while brown. Just do as I did, it worked for me. Let me know how that goes.
Where did my vehicle come from? Iím the proud owner of a 1993 Pontiac which my Gramma Rose named The Stone Soup Car. Living miles out of town like I do it was extremely difficult to do simple things like run errands for my Gram or even buy food! Rose gave it some thought and the result was that my Unk Koon generously donated the car, my cousin Adam did the repair work to get it road-worthy and she, Rose Theresa, the amazing, beautiful, compassionate person that she is, provided the funding. Thank yooz for being so good and understanding. I repeat; I am one lucky broad. As Gramma sez, we all help each other out.
In my life experience Iíve learned that Indians canít keep nothing nice. Guess where this is going? Yup. Despite the advanced age of my car, its body was in perfect shape and just great for going to town and running about Rezberry. However, Iím not allowed keep anything good, not even a 1993 Hoopdie. Nope. Cousin Adam was backing out of Grammaís very wide driveway and hit my car, which wasnít even parked in the way. Sigh!
Rose told my Unk, who came over to see what he could do to fix The Stone Soup Car. It still runs though it does need some industrial grade duck tape and I have to stick my arm out the window before I take a left. I was all righteously angry until my Unk told me it looks more like a real rez car now and that I can enter it in next yearís rez car contest. He was attempting to mollify me, but I was still mad for days because it wasnít even my fault!
Next month: the Underground Commod Network. Shhhh!!!

Users' Comments (1)
Posted by MJ Madrid, on 17-09-2012 14:53,
1. Walking While Brown
I live in southern NM and with Republicans up in arms about illegal immigration it's not hard to get caught up in the furor. I was walking from a friend's house one day (a short walk of a mile or so)when a Border Patrol Vehicle pulled up next to me. I was asked to show my ID (presumably proof of my citizenship) and asked a few annoying questions.  
 
It seems almost comical to me that my family has lived in this area since pre-history, but my citizenship is questioned by a White Policeman who moved to this area a scant five years ago (I asked). What is wrong with this picture?
 
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