Friday, March 8, 2013

PART 2: The Strange Case of Spacey Lacy


Green Scallions recently received the following letter from Ms. Loretta Spacey defending her actions in recent driving incident on Interstate 90 in southern Minnesota. In fairness to all parties, we'd encourage you to read the following article below from the Minneapolis Star entitled "Speeder caught 4 times, once at 112 mph, in hours", prior to reading Spacey's comments.

From "Go Granny, Go":

First of all, let me just say that I am a victim of the State of Minnesota. Yes, a victim of  300 miles of nothing, but fence posts on wind swept, ice covered Interstate 90 -
otherwise nicknamed as Minnesota's Most Unsenic Byway. 

I am pleading with you to be patient as I retrace my footsteps for you through this lengthy, frightful ordeal before passing judgement.

My southern Minnesota nightmare (pictured above) started just a few miles east of the South Dakota border when I became stuck behind a huge six car pileup, along with one turkey hauling semi. I became a victim for having  left my home extra early anticipating a leisurely 70 mph drive from greater Sioux Falls to Racine to see my granddaughter's dance competition . This major pileup outside Luverne had me stuck in my Chrysler for half an hour as authorities undid the wrecked cars.Then two hours more for the CSI people to waddle through the mess to separate the living fowl and the foul smelling dead fowl .

Then I was victimized again by a poorly marked, not in service rest stop along this miserable stretch of highway. After being in the car for what seemed like eternity, I had to pee bad. This modern day rest area sign never indicated it wasn't open.

I left my car running in the spot closest to the big blue biffy, charged up to the door only to find a hand scribbled sign in both English and Spanish stating "Not here! "Bad storm! Pipes froze! Use corn field to north"! 

Doing sprinting kagels, I dashed  back to my Chrysler grabbing a compass and my toidy travel pack only to drop them into the knee deep snow hurdling the farmer's fence. There I cringed, trying to avoid eye contact with a half dozen staring cows and soiled my new, pretty, pink outfit.  Again, a victim of the elements in southern Minnesota. At least the cows hadn't chewed up all the frozen corncobs. 


Back in the car, I turned up the heater to the max, coming to grips that I had become a stinky victim, too. This delay set me back an extra hour thanks to the Minnesota Highway Department.  I left the serviceless service area, ramping up my speed heading east towards the megalopolis of Worthington (pop: 12,276) .There, I hoped to find a local dry goods store to replace the soiled mess of a dress and take a shower somewhere.

I took another two hours to find new clothes in Worthington. I settled for a gingham business suit on the closeout rack in Pamida's hunting department. Once again, I am the victim.  

Eighty bucks for the dress, gas, a quick shower at a truck stop on Hwy 59, trip to a laundromat, and a lunch buffet at the Happy Chef ---  "Priceless! Remember, there are some things money can't buy out here, but for everything else there's my maxed out Mastercard" .

I got out of town around 1 pm. Way behind schedule. I became more stressed with each mile now. Lit one of the reefers I hide in the birth control part of my purse. "Relax and take a little toke", I told myself. I reached in my CD case for my favorites. All gone! I had left the car unlocked trusting the Worthingtonians at the Happy Chef.

"Victim, victim, victim", I screamed as put the pedal to the metal spinning the wheels onto the entrance ramp of I-90. All of my favorite cruising tunes -- "Sweet Home Alabama",  "White Rabbit" by Gracie Slick & the Airplane, "Don't Bogart that Joint" from the Easy Rider soundtrack. No CD's to listen to! All gone!

With the FM side of my radio on the fritz, I furiously scanned the AM band only finding 1330 AM -- Riding with God on the I  and various farm reports. I could swear that I heard a sermon where God clearly stated prices of soy beans were going to hell. This weed must have gotten to me. Got to wondering if barrows and sows could ever mate and have babies.

But it ain't over til it's over. Two giggle sticks later I saw this black Ford in my rear view coming up on me with flashing red lights. I was victimized again, almost feeling like an animal of sacrafice.  My speedometer read 110 plus. "Oh jeez" (or yeez if you prefer), I yelled in Minnesotan, "those Happy Chef CD thieves messed with my cruise control, too".

I crawled  from my Chrysler with my granny hands held sky high, but trying yet to look kind of sexy for the cop. He looked strangely familiar. A movie star maybe, or perhaps a Bachelor contestant who dropped out after a failed marriage.  So there we were, two loosers face to face in the snow covered prairie grass purgatory of Jackson, Minnesota. 

Trying to break the ice the female way, I teared up crying out, "Someone must have spiked my weed with something. I'm innocent"! . I shared with him my story of woe, offered him a puff off my joint which he took and coughed out, "Mellow Spacey" trying to cleverly rhyme my name.  Still, he insisted he'd have to write me up whimpering, "business ain't nowhere as good as it was in my previous assignment. I'm gonna be sequestered if I don't hit my ticket quota". 

He sent me on my way, slurring, "Far out Spacey Lacy", and flashed me the peace sign. Still can't figure out where I've seen him before, but he gave me his picture puffing on a joint saying it was taken last summer at a drug bust. I sped off to my next ticket just a few miles up the road where I would be tagged at 99 mph by the what almost looked like the first cops twin brother. Must have been the grass.

"Last Chance for Mary Jane"

Guess you know most of the rest of the story, according to the local papers anyway. Arrested doing 112 mph (99, 88,88) just trying to get to my sweet 14 year old grand baby Terra's dance performance.

My heart has been broken by this series of these unfortunate events. Old friends in Alabama and South Dakota shun me. People are making jokes about me. I've been characterized as a driving demonette by the media, nicknamed "Big Foot", "Go Granny Go", "Spacey"  just to name a few. I've cried alot!

Plus, I now have four trial dates set for April 1st  in four different places in one day. Don't know if I can make it to all four without speeding, but I'll map quest all the options. Might try some County roads avoiding the Interstate.

So for now brothers and sisters, peace out. I'll be back at you after the trial(s)!!      




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