carFaithful followers of Left Coast Cowboys will know I’ve had a crash course in drug abuse these last two weeks. (And I still warn you, don’t Google “Meth Addiction”. You’ll never get those pictures out of your head.) Perhaps the worst thing has been, every time we think we’ve uncovered the most horrible thing there could be, we look at each other and sigh: “Well, at least that’s the worst of it.” Then it gets worse. By today, we really really thought we’d reached the end. The cabin where nefarious activities were taking place is cleaned, disinfected, rebuilt. We’ve searched out all the nooks and crannies and outbuildings where things that shall not be mentioned could be stashed and we’re pretty sure we’ve got everything. Well, everything on about one acre here. There are 39 more where possible horrible surprises could lurk. I assume we’ll stumble over them at some point. I just can’t let it hold up my life any more.

So anyway, that sigh of relief. Lasted about half an hour. Just as my Ace Clean Team was showing me their work down at the cabin, another worker came running down the path saying, “Someone’s crashed into the pasture fence.” He’d called 911, but by the time we got down the hill, the car was empty. A passing cyclist said the people got out of the car and walked up a nearby road. Then a CHiPs officer shows up and tells me, apparently these people weren’t fleeing the scene of the crime, but trying to get to the nearby place where they are staying to make a phone call. As we stood around taking pictures of the wrecked Audi and the large swath of my fence it had taken out, Officer Friendly came back leading the “perp” who was now being driven by her friend. We stood around at the gate while we each reported our names and phone numbers to Officer Friendly who filled out an “incident report”.

This is not actually the CHiPs officer who showed up. Mine was cuter.

This is not actually the CHiPs officer who showed up. Mine was cuter.

Now I don’t want to seem paranoid or, worse yet, a practitioner of profiling based on looks and dress. But I had a pretty good idea why this woman had had such a spectacular crash. Let’s just say, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d told Officer Friendly her name was Cosmic Sunshine Starflower. Her friend was just as spacy.

As Moonbeam Leaf Rainbow and her friend moved off to talk with Triple A, I took my opportunity to put a quick word in Officer Friendly’s shell like ear. I did restrain myself from representing myself as a drug enforcement professional. But I did ask him if he might want to run some…er…tests on them.

So Lesson One in why California is NOT Florida. Apparently, just because someone has an accident is not probable cause to assume they are on drugs — even if they are clearly a dopey hippy. And weird dozy spacy friends who show up but haven’t actually been in the car? There’s no probable cause to do anything to them. Except maybe edge away a little.

Anyway, poor Officer Friendly was in an awkward place. And I’d rather have him err on the side of not violating anyone’s Constitutional rights. But he did note that certain people who might, as he put it, “indulge in a little too much of the green stuff for too long a time” tend to exhibit those symptoms even when they aren’t under said influence. But he said he “liked my instincts”. If he only knew!

So, I lost a fence, but I did get some sort of official law enforcement seal of approval. Which we love around here, since we’re big fans of living in a place that has a Sheriff.

I should also mention another lesson we learned: CHiPs officers, even really telegenic young ones on really neat bikes don’t really want you to take their picture to post on a blog. So words will have to describe how cute Officer Friendly was. Lucy loves a man in uniform. If a repair man comes to the house and is wearing one of those Maytag shirts, Lucy’s all over him. Let’s just say, she was ready to jump on the back of Officer Friendly’s neat CHiPs motorcycle and feel the wind in her fur.

So no point here really. Except I wanted to give a shout out to show Two Terrier support for our boys in blue. And tan. And those wearing Sheriff’s badges.

And also to plead with druggies of any kind: can you give me a break here? I’ve had enough of this now. Or at the very least, let me start Betty Ford West and make some money off these losers.