Granny Got Away

On a bright June day in Charlottesville, Virginia, Granny Ryan and her friend Homer cruised north on McIntire Road in Granny’s 2005 burnt orange Subaru Forrester. Up ahead, a Charlottesville PD squad car idled on the opposite lane’s shoulder. Granny rolled down her window.

“Granny,” said Homer, “what are you doing?”

“I’m going to flip that cop the bird.”

“What for?” said Homer. “He’s minding his own business.”

“Not since Jefferson was a school boy has a cop minded his business. They’re proctologists with badges.”

“Don’t do it.”

Too late.

In the squad car across the road, Officer Johnny Lind peered through his sunglasses at a passing Subaru. The driver, an elderly woman, grinned wildly and flashed her middle digit in Lind’s direction.

“Did you see that?” said Lind.

“See what?” said Officer Brown. Now alerted, Brown scanned the street for trouble.

“That old bird just gave me the bird.”

Brown snorted.

“It’s not funny,” said Lind.

“Of course, it’s funny.”

“I’m going to light her up.”

“You can’t do that. Hand gestures are covered by the first amendment.”

Officer Lind pouted. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

Lind’s eyes narrowed as they studied the Subaru’s rear. “Tee hee. Busted taillight. I’m running her down.”

“No. No. No. It’s almost lunchtime.”

But Lind was determined. He executed a neat U-turn to pull in behind the Subaru, then switched on the lights. After the Subaru pulled over and stopped, Lind stepped out to approach its occupants. Officer Brown stayed in the squad car.

When Lind reached Granny’s open window, Granny grabbed the initiative. “What’d you pull me over for? You cops are always picking on the elderly.”

“You have a broken taillight, ma’am. That’s an automatic citation.”

“Taillight? Is that the best you can do?”

“I need to see your license and registration.”

“No,” said Granny, indignant but not innocent.

“You don’t have a license, do you?” said Lind.

“Yes. But I left it at home.”

Officer Lind’s chest puffed up like a blow toad. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Delilah Eisenhower Ryan.”

Officer Lind lifted an eyebrow, then frowned with doubt. “Are you related to President Eisenhower? I understand his mother was born in Augusta County.”

“We don’t claim that branch of the family.” Granny snarled for effect. “He was a Republican.”

“Uh huh. Stay put, please. I have to run your name and plates to make sure it’s all good.” Lind left.

“What in the heck are you doing?” said Homer. “You’re as much of a Republican as me.”

“More so. But Officer Lind doesn’t need to know that. These cops, once they get their hooks in you, they never stop. I’m of a mind to make a run for it.”

“Are you nuts? He’s got your name and license plate. They’ll track you down like a rabid dog.”

Back in the squad car, Officer Brown said, “Did you issue her a warning?”

“Not yet. I want to run her name.”

“Lord help you, Johnny. Haven’t we got better things to do than hassle this woman? We could get lunch.”

“This will only take a second. See there, it’s back already. Yep, Mrs. Ryan has an outstanding speeding ticket from four years ago.”

“Call the SWAT team.”

In the Forrester, Granny studied the rearview mirror. “Officer Lind’s coming back, and he has a swagger he didn’t have before. His partner’s out of the car too. This is our chance.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Granny.”

But once again, Homer was too late.

Officer Lind’s jaw dropped when the Forrester’s rear wheels spun gravel. The SUV jumped onto the pavement, and its tires squealed.

Lind turned and ran toward the cruiser.

Officer Brown looked to the heavens. “Please, tell me this is not happening.”

Granny turned onto 250 East and then punched it. By the time the squad car entered the highway, Officers Lind and Brown were a quarter mile behind. Lind fired up the siren and lights, engaged the cruiser’s powerful engine, and they were soon doing eighty miles per hour.

Officer Brown said, “Johnny, you’re going a bit fast. Let’s think this through.”

“Just call it in.”

They were closing in on Granny’s Forrester.

Brown called in their status, and immediately, their sergeant—who was cruising in another car across town—seized the airwave. “You’re doing what now? For a speeding ticket? Describe the driver.”

Brown said, “She’s a sprightly octogenarian, Sergeant.”

“Eighty plus?” said the sergeant, “Stand down. Stand down now!”

Lind swerved from lane to lane to avoid cars. He grabbed the mic. “Sergeant, please reconsider. We are closing in on the suspect. The chase is under control.”

“The hell it is. Stand down now! I will not have my officers chasing Ricky Bobby’s grandmother.”

Lind removed his foot from the accelerator, and Brown breathed a sigh of relief.

Granny gained on them, and the Forrester disappeared around a curve in the highway.

“Relax and keep driving the speed limit,” said Officer Brown. “She’ll spin out soon, and we’ll find her on the roadside.”

But much to Johnny’s chagrin, Granny got away.

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