High Speed Thoughts

This is an experience I had while on a police ride along for one of my classes.

Three things happen when you find yourself in the passenger seat of a police car involved in a high speed chase. First, your mind purges itself of all excess thought, every facet of your strength is focused on one thing, survival. Second, your body braces for impact, arms grabbing for something secure, feet thrust forward in an effort to support your weight, and you notice for some reason your breathing is slowed. Third, you pray.

Ryan Kamachi, of the Rexburg Police Department, has worked for two years as a police officer. His daily routine involves answering calls of “suspicious” activity civilians call in, or maintaining peace and safety on the roads and highways. When asked of his wildest story while serving on the force, he recounts the time he was first on the scene of a terrible three car accident.

So one could imagine my expectation when we pulled over the green impala for blowing through an intersection with pedestrians in the cross walk. The driver, a kid about twenty years old, pulled his red baseball cap low over his eyes as the bright beam of the spot light shone through his windows. Officer Kamachi got out of the car, flashlight in hand, and approached the driver side window. Just as he was to the side of the trunk, the car pulls out and races off.

Hand on gun, Kamachi radios in to dispatch. The door was barley shut before the high whine of the Dodge Charger engine was heard and we were in hot pursuit. Blue lights reflected off of street signs and parked car windows, we changed lanes as he radios in again. “Weve got him heading west toward 20”.

Two red taillights were all that could be seen through the fog of dust being kicked up from the escapee’s tires as he makes a right hand turn onto Fifth West. Again Kamachi radios in the new direction he has taken. The smell of transmission fluid mixed with hot rubber seeped through the vent and filled the cab with its musty scent. Glancing at our own speedometer, I saw the needle drop to sixty as we made the same corner. Now, further ahead of us, the rev of the engine gets louder as we try to make up for lost distance.

You feel every nook and cranny the road has to offer when you travel that fast.

The smell of burning tires, and overheated transmission fluid seeped into our lungs as the air conditioner blew a steady stream of cool air. What once was a clean, fresh smelling car, now had become a humid musty pit of auto fluid and smoke. The blur of street lights and dimly lit houses flew past our eyes. The dust from the road ahead of us that had been scattered was like a fog that had settled on the dark night. Mean while our own speedometer read 90, as we slowed to take a turn onto another city road.

The radio squawked, snapping me back to reality, “We’ve got speeds of eighty five… ninety plus” snapping me back to reality. The car made a loud thud as we bounced over the rail road tracks. Slowing to a quick seventy miles an hour, and only long enough to make sure there were no other cars coming, we plowed through a four way stop.

“Im going to have to pull off, Ive got a rider with me”. Kamachi spoke into the radio. Pulling off to the side of the road, I slammed the car door and listened to the rev of the engine followed by the grind of gravel under the tires. At eleven o’clock at night the streets are dark, just another night in Rexburg.