citizen's arrest. citizen's arrest.

have you ever seen the andy griffith show? don't you remember hearing gomer pyle hollarin' "citi-zy-an's a-rray-est! citi-zy-an's a-rray-est!" that's how todd and i have felt lately. because what do you do when you have a total moron of a human being riding his crotch rocket motorcycle through your neighborhood going 50+ mph? there's not a whole lot you can do, apparently. you can call the police, but what do you tell them? "hi. mister crotch rocket dude just flew past my house. will you go get him?" ...where'd he go?... "i don't know." exactly.

so for weeks, i'd say even since before liliana was born, we've heard the high pitch zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzz of a crotch rocket flying past our house and down the joining road beside our house. and it makes todd furious. several times he's jumped in his car and chased after the guy - but we're always too late. the little rocket boy is going so fast. by the time you see him, he's turning onto another road and there's no catching up. all we wanted was his license plate number. because that ought to do SOMEthing, right?

yesterday i was on my way home from the gym and as i turned into my neighborhood..zzzzzzz...there he went. he was rounding a corner in my neighborhood just as i was passing him. so i, being alone and without children, did what any mama would do. i jerked my minivan into a road, backed out and hauled booty after the rocket boy. and when i say hauled. i mean i was going 70mph down 17th street ext. headed towards college road. and if you're from here, you know that that in itself is no brilliant move. but i was determined to get this boy's license plate. so as i'm speeding, i'm dialing the hubs. "i'm chasing the crotch rocket boy, todd! i'm gonna get him! ...ok, get something to write with. ...you ready? license plate number...ok. now pray for me. i'm gonna talk to him."

so i pull up next to him in my minivan. i'm lookin' fierce in my hollywood sunglasses and hair greased back in a ponytail from my workout and my two carseats in the back. and i ever so nicely say, "can you hear me?" he smiles and says "yes." and i say, "do you live in bla bla (gonna leave that out) neighborhood?" him, "no." me, "do you sometimes ride through there?" him, "yea." and this is when i get pissed, but mind you i didn't say all of the curse words that i wanted to. cause boy, i wanted to either knock him in his nose with my fist or at least let him have it with mean words. but i refrained. so instead i said, "DO NOT come in our neighborhood AGAIN! it is NOT OK for you to ride your bike that fast. THERE ARE CHILDREN in there.!" him, "SO. they gotta catch me. i don't care. i don't ride around kids. i don't care." me, "well then you should know that your license plate number is going directly to the police RIGHT NOW....(and i add this in b/c i KNOW that this will scare him)...and i have a cop who lives on my street. we WILL catch you!" him, "i DON'T CARE!"

and the light turned green.

and that joker accelerated so insanely fast and went around the turn so fast that i was sure that his bike was going to fly out from beneath him (which i don't want. i didn't want him to die.). but i wanted him to get a FLIPPIN' CLUE!

and i know that i sounded so far from threatening. but let me just tell you how much of the mama bear in me was rising up. i was so rattled and angered by that moron that my hands were shaking when i walked into our house. i'm just glad that we were in our cars and not face-to-face. i'm afraid my knee would have had a twitched and jumped up and knocked him in special places.

i don't think i would have been so mad if he hadn't said he didn't care. because he DOES in fact ride his bike by children. our whole neighborhood is active - people are constantly out walking or riding bikes or kids are playing. how incredibly ridiculous. and when we called the cops there really was nothing they could do. they said they would go by his house and talk to him.

and you know what i picture? and i always have. so now picture this with me. i picture the holy spirit being loud like a lion when a mama is protecting her babies. and i've always thought that if someone broke into my house with me there with the girls, that i would open my mouth and this roar would come out. it would be so big and loud and crazy, that the bad guy would run. i believe that the voice of the Lord can roar. sounds silly, maybe. and so i'm just hoping that even though i didn't roar at that rocket boy, i hope that whatever i said to him transferred. i hope that the Lord rearranges my words, later, and that when rocket boy replays the events of yesterday that he remembers this crazy burly looking dude threatening his rocket riding days if he so much as steps a wheel in our neighborhood. because the Lord is cool like that, and i know He could relay that message if needed.

here's to no more rocket boys in my hood. or else.

citi-zy-an's a-rray-est!