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After a couple of years as a volunteer fireman in one of five departments in my town I joined the Navy.

Home on leave I borrowed my mother's car, in which my brother had left his cowboy hat and mirrored sunglasses, which I put on and proceeded to cruise on down the road to my girlfriend's house.

About half way there a town cop lights me up and I can see him waving me to pull over, so I do.

As I watch the officer approach, I realize it's Ted, a volunteer from the next department over, a guy I had pulled a couple of kids out of a car wreck with once, and had fought a couple of fires alongside, as well as spending summers as rivals on our departments' racing teams (google firematic racing).

As he walked up and said "You know the drill, license and registration . . ." I said "Hey Quickdraw, what's the problem?" and he kind of stepped back and recognized me, and greeted me a little more cordially. In the fire department he had gotten the nickname "Quickdraw" because of his habit of carrying a lighter, although he didn't smoke, and being the first to have his lighter out to light any lady's cigarette.

He explained that they had been rousting my brother for some time because of his slipping past a couple of drug charges (well, it WAS the '60s) and he had just been following the routine.

We pulled farther off the road and had a chat and then off he went, and I was late for my date, and I never did show my license or the car's registration.