Used to have a '67 Chevelle that was nice, very fast, and notorious in the town I grew up in. One day, while having a barbecue with another couple, cop rolls up and somewhat rudely tells me to come down off the deck, he wanted to talk to me. I then asked him what he needed and that I was trying to not burn the steaks. Again, playing tough guy, he gets all shitty about it and demands I come down to talk to him. He then says something in his mic about how the other guy and I look like the people in the description. I get down there, and I'm starting to get a little pissy myself and ask him what the problem is. He ignores my question and asks me if own a red Chevelle. I told him yes, with a black top, and told him he already knew that so why was he asking. He asked me where the other guy and I were an hour ago. I told him where we were which was at softball practice (with our wives) and that there would be around 30 people to back that up. He then asks me where the car is. I told him it was at my shop and it has not been out of that shop in a week. I once again ask him why. He responds basically with an "I'll tell you when I'm ready to" answer. I told him fine, I'm going back to finish what I was doing and that he could come up to finish HIS one way conversation when he was ready. He then started to get really pissed.
Just about that time, another patrol unit drives up and I recognize the officer. He walks up to the Brutha Bob Badass and asks him what was going on. They talk for a minute and without anything else said to me, Brutha Bob shakes his head and leaves. Second cop walks up on the deck tells us he is sorry and now he asks the same questions and I give him the same answers along with an offer to go with him to the shop so he could put his hands on the hood just to prove it. So now I ask him what this is all about. He told me it wouldn't be necessary to go to the shop. Then tells me that someone had evidently mooned the Mayor and his guests at the golf course and the description of the car matched mine. The Mayor was really mad and wanted something done, but that he also knew I wasn't involved.
I just laughed and told him how it makes total sense. As he was getting back in his car, I asked him; "How did you know it wasn't us?". His response was exactly what I expected; "I know you only come out on Friday night". As he started to back out of the drive, I hoisted my beer and told him; "Give my regards to the Mayor", all the while thinking, just wait until I see Dave. (Dave owned a solid red 66 Chevelle and yes, a couple weeks later, he 'fessed up when I called him on it.)
