A few weeks before Loli was born, Matthew stole a car. Really. Just up and stole a car. He is quick to point out that it wasn't just him, it was also his mother in law, but the cops didn't see it that way. He was the one who took it. He was the one who drove off without leaving a trace.
A few days before Loli was born, Matthew got busted. Got called into the police station. Poor babygirl was almost born with her daddy in the big house, commemorating her birth not with a cigar but with a cigarette stub off the slammer floor.
(Should I explain now?) It goes like this: A friend of my dad's moved to Mexico, and asked him to pick up his car. Said the keys would be in it and the battery would be dead. Told him the make and model, year and color. Matt went and found said car just where he was told it would be, fished around and found the keys, jumped the battery, and drove off. The car spent a few weeks at the shop, during which time my dad was told to scrap the car for parts. My dad was about to tear out the engine when the cops called. A tow truck had hauled away the headed-to-Mexico guy's car and they somehow had my dad as a contact -- would he like to come get it? A chill ran up his spine, I can only imagine. If they had his car, whose was the one in the lot? As it turns out, it just so happened that some other guy had the same exact car, parked in the same place, keys tucked away and battery dead and all. I'm not too sure of the details after this, but I do know that Matt was called in by the heat and, thank God, not fingerprinted and no record formally made of the event. Well, other than the enormous THUGL1FE 4EVA tattoo Matthew inked across his chest.
Life is a Rollercoaster
1 week ago