I feel like I just auditioned for a very-B-rated action movie.
Some guy pulled a shop-vac from our front porch about an hour ago. I heard the noise & opened the front door to see him loading it into his car. I yelled at him, and while I was getting shoes on, Holly ran out and read his plates. He was busy trying to hide the rear plate by folding it in half.
I pulled the shop-vac back out of the car and was about to take a seat when he took off driving, swinging really fast around the corner. I had one forearm on the roof, another on the door, so I lifted my feet and was along for the ride.
He didn't stop, so I got all the way in the car. He kept telling me to get out, but I don't think he stopped to let me out until later. He even threatened to call the police, which I also asked him to do. When he didn't, I pulled out my cell, only to have him grab it and break it in two at the hinge. I finally got out in the parking lot at the Crescent Apts.
Holly was understandably freaked, and called 911. Three cars showed up pretty quickly, soon after I arrived back. The officer seemed to do a fine job. Sounds like the car's registered driver matched our description.
Too weird. Certainly more excitement than I'm used to. And much more tension than I'd generally be ready to experience over a crummy shop-vac.