A cop pulled us over, came up to the window and said, "I'll bet you folks are lost. Where ya going?"
I told him and he replied, "Follow me; I'll lead you there."
To this day I cannot tell if he was white, black or even green.
Not as far back, around 2005, Brent, a co-worker was going on a sales call in Chicago in the company car. He noticed as he was heading into the city proper that he was dangerously low on gas, and took the first exit. It was “the wrong neighborhood”. And there was no reentry ramp in the same direction.
Everyone at the gas station was staring at him. Seriously staring at him. The attendant inside where Brent paid told him he should clear out.
Brent was 35, was fit, dressed professionally (tie, dress shirt, khakis), and was driving a white Mercury Grand Marquis, which looked just like the Ford Crown Victoria cop cars at the time. The locals wanted to know what “the cop” was up to. Whether they were deciding to scoot, or take him out, he will never know.
The attendant inside told him he better clear out. You see,