This wiki answers the question: What’s the best way to escape the police in a high-speed chase?
The short answer: Don’t. It’s damn near impossible.
It did, however, remind me of the one time in my life that I escaped the police. Admittedly, it wasn’t a high-speed chase. More like an exceptionally brief, side street sidestep, but still, I felt pretty bad-ass after the encounter.
And why, might you ask, would a fine and upstanding individual like myself do such a foolish thing?
To impress a girl, of course.
I was seventeen at the time and driving through the town of Hopedale, Massachusetts. I had just picked up Linda, a fellow McDonald’s employee, and was driving her to work.
I wasn’t actually working that day, and Hopedale was out of my way to say the least, but Linda was cute and I had a huge crush on her. We had been working together for more than six months, side by side in the drive-thru, after school and on weekends. For almost that entire time, I had been searching for an opportunity to give Linda a reason to flirt with me so I could flirt back without risking rejection.
I was a real player back then.
Having heard that she needed a ride to work, I quickly offered my services for the following day even though I was not scheduled to work myself.
About ten minutes after picking her up at her home, I was speeding down a back road when I drove through a speed trap. I instantly knew that I was in trouble. I was driving at least 20 miles an hour over the speed limit, and Hopedale was (and still is) famous for its aggressive ticketing of speeders.
Sure enough, as I glanced in my rear view mirror, I saw the cruiser pulling out from his hiding place on the side of the road, blue lights already flashing.
Had Linda not been in the car, I would’ve pulled over immediately.
Had I not been so familiar with this particular stretch of road, I would’ve pulled over immediately.
Had conditions not been favorable for an escape attempt, I would’ve pulled over immediately.
But Linda was in the car, and I was coming upon a series of sharp curves in the road that I knew well. The desire to impress Linda, combined with a moment of criminal inspiration, forced me to grip the wheel hard and press the pedal to the floor.
As I took the first sharp curve in the road, I looked in my rear view mirror to determine if the cruiser was still in view.
It was not.
Hoping that the cop was far enough back for me to execute my escape plan, I spun the wheel left and skidded up the driveway of the nearest home. The driveway ascended a gentle incline to the right of the house, ending with a series of flowers and bushes adjacent to the side door of the house.
When I reached the top of the driveway, I continued past the house, running over flowers, a lawn ornament and a stone path and onto the back lawn. Then I turned left again before skidding to a halt behind the house, my car entirely shielded from the street.
All this happened extremely fast. Linda didn’t have a moment to say a word as my car flew up the driveway and skidded into this unknown person’s backyard. When the car finally came to a stop, she was silent for about a few seconds before launching into a profanity-laden tirade about the stupidity of my actions.
Her complaints included (but were not limited to):
1. The stupidity of running from the police
2. The physical and legal danger in which I had placed her
3. The possibility that someone might be inside the house even though there was no car in the driveway
4. Her longtime certainty of my utter idiocy
As she was screaming at me, two thoughts ran through my mind in alternating waves:
Did the cop see me pull up the driveway? I just escaped from the police! Did the cop see me pull up the driveway? I just escaped from the police! Did the cop see me pull up the driveway? I just escaped from the police! Did the cop see me pull up the driveway? I just escaped from the police!
After a few moments, I concluded that the cop mustn’t have seen me or he would’ve followed me up the driveway and would already have me in handcuffs.
Upon this realization, my thought process quickly shifted to two slightly different, alternating waves:
I just escaped from the police! Why isn’t Linda impressed? I just escaped from the police! Why isn’t Linda impressed? I just escaped from the police! Why isn’t Linda impressed? I just escaped from the police! Why isn’t Linda impressed? I just escaped from the police! Why isn’t Linda impressed?
It made no sense to me.
I had just done something brave and clever and cool. And it involved a car. I had just escaped the police, damn it!
How was Linda not tearing off my clothing at that very moment?
When she was finally finished screaming at me, she sighed, took a deep breath, and said, “Just bring me to work and don’t talk to me.”
I smiled, held my breath in hopes of finding a way to break the bad news to her, and finally said, “We can’t actually leave yet. The cop saw my car and is probably still looking for me. Hopedale is tiny. We’re going to need to wait awhile.”
“How long?” she asked.
“Half an hour?” I posited. "If we leave to soon, we’re definitely going to get caught.”
We sat in that backyard, my car idling, without saying a word, for almost an hour. Never before and never since have a seen a person express so much anger and loathing without uttering a single word.
It’s cliché, I know, but the silence in that Toyota Tercel was deafening.
In the end, Linda was late for work, and I was forced to explain the reason to the boss. Though she would eventually begin speaking to me after several weeks, my chances with her, which never actually existed, were over.
Isn’t that the way it always is with teenage boys?
We think that the best way to impress a woman is to do something dangerous and stupid in an attempt to demonstrate out bravery and mettle, when the only people impressed by these acts of lunacy and stupidity are other teenage boys.
Youth is truly wasted on the young. And the stupid.