Kook!!! Hurry the fuck up!!! The old man in front of my street legal dirtbike was going waaaay too slow to suit me, so I started to bump his car with my front tire. It was a beautiful clear summer day in Southern California. The Santa Ana winds were pumping and so were the waves over to my left, and I was enjoying a ride up the coast with a camel gear backpack I got for Free for being such a great smoker strapped to my back over a lightweight silk shirt from Brasil with a crazy Bart Simpson print. When I bashed the man's car for the third time approaching the pier from the south in Oceanside Ca on pacific st., I heard a police siren blip behind me. My first thought was " damn I shouldn't have bumped Dude's car." my second thought was " I have 5 pounds of high grade weed and thousands of dollars and probably a gun on me." I pulled over right after realizing I had dope on me and saw the officer stepping out of a beach team jeep and approaching me, slowly removing his Oakley sunglasses. They all wore Oakley's in the early 90's; they didn't realize they looked like a bunch of Lance Armstrong looking Kooks! As I went to put the kickstand down, I realized that the Yamaha xt600 I was riding had an automatic engine cutoff switch and the nice young tan officer would not enjoy seeing all that cash and marijuana and yes, I checked, a gun. Right as he removed his glasses, I nodded cordially and took off north as fast as I could. My bike was having problems that day and was only up to around half of what it should have been. Great day for a chase - NOT! I swept right when I hit the downramp for the pier and sped the wrong way south down Myers alley. A bunch of kids ran out in the street to see why there where sirens coming so I jammed both brakes and the Dad smiled at me and yanked his kid back out of the street and right then here comes Mr. Oakley the rookie all fired up and Rams me from behind right as I was getting going again, pushing me from 25mph to 60mph in seconds, breaking the frame under my ass and popping my rear tire. Now this shit was getting Good! Dirt bikes have rim locks so the tires can be run flat without much problem. As I hit around 65 mph I see Joe and all the suicidals from the local beach gang waving me on and yelling my name - Go Jerky!!! Did I mention I was high on meth for the last 5 days? Well I was. No body in their right mind would run from the cops but I was a long way from being in the right anything. This was my first chase ever and I was amazed at how high I was getting. I could hear sirens coming at me from all directions even over the roar of my motor and the loud siren right behind me. I could imagine them coming and wanting to rub me out. I remembered a friend telling me if they ever catch you in a high speed chase and don't get to kill you, they will hog tie you and take turns on you with their boots. Needless to say, I had big motivation for getting away. It wasn't about mAybe jail or trouble, it was #life and death. The ultimate rush. After the Suicidals yelled my name I was approaching Wisconsin ave. going south about 70mph. The old Yamaha was maxed out and running like crap. I didn't dare slow down at the intersection so I made a split second decision to just go for it. I was thinking how the suspension was going to react at that speed to the double dips on either Side of the road when a purple Cadillac flashed from right to left. It missed my front tire I don't know how, but I was traveling so fast that the back bumper hit my left steel toe Doc Martin, and immediately I was kicking myself in the back while getting airborn past the laundromat. I landed and looked back and saw mMr. Oakley stopping for the intersection then punching it again. I could Really hear all of his buddies coming now. It sounded Ike all hell was breaking loose and it kinda was In that little corner of the world. I reached the end of Myers and swept to the left of the house there, intending to hit the dirt by the railroad tracks and bail. I was still going about 60 when I hit the curb and flew around the house and there was a big tree laying right in my path. I could only plex and grip the bike with my hands and legs as I smashed through the tree. Amazed when I popped out the other side I looked back to check on my buddy Oakley and saw him eat shit grill first into a thicker part of the tree towards the trunk. All I thought was cool - that buys me a few seconds. As I popped out on Crosswaithe st. I went left towards the shit plant above Buccanneer Park, and swooped to my right onto the sidewalk, actually scattering some tourists before bumping my buddy's low wooden gate with my front knobby tire and I slid into his yard and the gate snapped back and latched. I could hear the whole Mr. Oakley Posse coming now from every direction. I knew they would be coming from Cassidy st. To the south of me mainly and that they were close. As I threw the faithful old xt 600 under the bushes and stripped off my backpack I removed the 44 revolver from the small of my back and zipped it into my backpack. I leaned to my left on my knees under the bushes and saw the crumpled beach team jeep go by running like shit and smoking really bad. I saw my sbuddy Pat's back door open so I knew he was home. Coppers were overhead now so I crouched by Pat's door and called his name over and over huffing and puffing on the verge of an asthma attack. He wasn't answering and it was driving me crazy so I just entered finally.