I think these are the funniest posts that I do, these explorations into the seedy underbelly of crime in America and across the planet. Of course, this is generally how I make my nearest and dearest friends, like Ben Repinski.
This one takes place in St. Louis Park. This is about young Steven Mansfield, whom I have decided goes by Stevie. Let’s see where the police encountered Stevie… “driving a golf cart heading south on the northbound shoulder of Hwy. 100 near Hwy. 7“.
Let’s see you talk your way out of THAT one, Steve-o (He’s Steve-o now).
Mansfield, a bit unsteady on his feet, told the troopers that he worked for a golf course and was returning the cart, but he could not name his employer.
I love two parts of this. “A bit unsteady on his feet” is such a gentle way to describe it. Was he a nervous nellie? Yeah, that’s probably it! Also, I like that Stevie (Stevie again) couldn’t come up with a golf course. He could come up with a golf cart, but not a golf course. Don’t they usually have that on like, the key, or the cart or somewhere prominently written SOMEWHERE? Stevie is a bit unsteady thinking on his feet.
He then told them he took the cart from nearby Westside Volkswagen so he could get gasoline for a friend who ran out of gas.
A) They have a golf cart at the Volkswagen dealer? Sweet gig, if you work there
B) What a champ, getting gas for a friend, even if it is via reckless golf cart
C) So, is he going to get charged with stealing the golf cart? I mean, he was going to bring it back
The troopers declined to have him perform standard roadside balance tests for fear he might hurt himself.
Yeah… Stevie was a little bit more than “a bit unsteady on his feet.” I am trying to figure out how drunk you have to be to hurt yourself while trying to touch your nose.
Also, this is totally a sports post, since it involved a golf cart.
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