As a kid I grew up watching educational television shows like The Dukes of Hazzard, The A-Team, and Knight Rider. I learned a lot, like perseverance, improvisation, creativity, and how to break the law without getting caught. But more than that, those shows inspired me. They inspired me to do one thing before I die: to drive a car at high speed and crash it through a fence or a gate — or really any free-standing structure.
And then, the glorious day arrived when I had the chance to fulfill that very childhood dream — right up until it was ruined by a bunch of firefighters.
Where The Glory’s At
After getting the page on an actual pager, I headed for the station, grabbed my SWAT gear, and suited up in full tuxedo. The guys from my department responded together to the staging area where we got our assignments from the regional SWAT team’s commander. I was still new so I got the job that none of the senior guys wanted — driving the BearCat. The only thing worse than that was getting put on the perimeter, so I guess it was a small improvement. Everyone wants to be first through the door because that’s where the glory is. Or so they think.
I hopped in and took the Entry Team and a negotiator within loud-speaker distance of the single family home where our barricaded subject had taken up residence in a small, tightly packed neighborhood. The nose of the BearCat was at the edge of the road facing the side of the house where a set of stairs led to a second floor landing and a sliding glass door. The only thing between us and the house was a quintessential white picket fence.
Waffle House
As the negotiator worked at talking the suspect into coming out on his own, he continued to make threats to blow the house up and take the neighborhood with him. Normally, that would be a dumb threat to make, because that was a little too grandiose for the average bad guy. But this guy worked for a drilling and blasting company, and if he had done any planning there was a good chance he actually had the means to do it. For that reason we kept our distance and let the negotiator work his Jedi mind tricks.
Several hours passed as the suspect waffled as they so often do — he was coming out, he didn’t come out, he’s not coming out, he’s coming out, and so on and so forth. During the verbal ping pong match Command planned for contingencies like deploying gas and plans to apprehend him should he come out, get athletic, and make a run for it. That’s when the word from on high came down from Command’s lips to my ears. Words I had waited for, essentially for my entire life: if that guy comes out and shows anything other than absolute compliance, I was to drive the BearCat through the fence as fast as I could to lead the way for the entry team.
Um, yes please.
Fire And Smoke
It was right about at that point that I began thanking God and praying that this guy would not comply. I imagined myself aggressively dropping the shifter into Drive, stomping on the gas, hearing the whine of the turbo diesel engine come to life and deliver massive torque to the giant rear wheels. Then as the 20,000 pound armored vehicle hit the pathetic little fence like a blitzing linebacker, I was imagining white splinters of what used to be a picket fence bouncing off the windshield like hotdogs off a firefighter’s face. And with any luck, I would even catch some air.
It was about that time that the situation began to change. Black smoke started silently billowing out from under the eves, slowly at first, and then with increasing volume. The acrid stench wafted in and traffic over the radio relayed to everyone that the house was now on fire. I sat and watched the smoke pump out from under the roofline and ridge vent. The arrest team made a hasty plan to partner with a couple firefighters to douse the flames so they could rescue and arrest the poor idiot who had apparently set his own house on fire. This was my moment.
Living The Dream
Wide eyed and with all the potential energy of a coiled spring, I grabbed the gear shift on the steering column with my right hand in a supine kung-fu-like grip. I was one second away from slamming it into gear, gunning the engine, and living my dream. And that’s precisely when the firefighters ruined everything.
In the blink of an eye, a little troupe of axe-wielding firefighters descended on that fence like vultures on roadkill. They came in swinging and chopping and kicking like cracked-out lumberjacks. I couldn’t be sure, but from inside the BearCat came the muffled scream of, Noooooooooooo! as the driver (me) mechanically shot his hand out in a dramatic plea for them to stop. But it was too late. The fence had been duly chopped down, kicked over, and trampled before other members of the SWAT team could pull the over-enthusiastic American heroes back out of a potential kill zone.
One Mile Per Hour
Now with nothing to crash through, dejectedly I limped the BearCat over the flattened fence at approximately one mile per hour, onto the lawn, and over to the base of the staircase leading to the second floor landing. The bad guy emerged from the darkness within, came out of the smoke with literally his hair on fire, and was taken into custody. By the time it was all said and done there was a huge gaping crater in the roof of the house, the bad guy was flown to a big city hospital for his burns, and I was left in disbelief, pondering what might have been.
Born That Way
I don’t know what happened, but something inside those firefighters must have snapped when they saw the smoke to cause them to abandon reason and make a beeline for the house despite previous orders to stand down. The smoke was Pavlov’s little bell, the firefighters were the dogs, and it was dinner time.
I know, I get it, it wasn’t all their fault. They didn’t mean to ruin my dream of driving full speed through a fence in a stunt of glorious proportions, it’s just the way they were born.
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