Last night was extraordinarily quiet. A little after 10 I was watching my roommate play Monopoly online when I heard my cell phone right downstairs. Running downstairs, I missed the call but saw that it had been one of my parents calling. I tried calling back immediately, but discovered the line was busy because they were leaving me a message. I decided to listen to the message before I called back, and what I heard made me nervous. Hearing my mom say, "I need you to call me back," in that tone of voice, would make anyone nervous. So I hung up and dialed my parents' number without even listening to the rest of the message.
On Saturday my brother and I were driving up to Greeley to help my sister move into her new apartment. Something flew off or out of a black SUV next to us and went right under our car. I think it was one of their hubcaps flying off, but it happened too fast to be sure. The car behind us honked at us after we drove over it, but we just shrugged at each other. It wasn't like it had anything to do with us, right?
Apparently the car behind us called the police and claimed the female passenger (ME!) threw something out the window and it hit their car. Under further questioning, they admitted that they didn't see me stick my arm out the window, but that they were sure that the item which hit their car came off or out of our car.
At my mom's request, I called the police detective and explained what happened to him. He kept asking me these questions:
"Was there anything in your trunk? Could something have come out of your trunk?"
"Well, the trunk was still closed when we got out of the car, so no."
"How about the back seat?"
"All our windows were closed, so one of windows would've had to have broken for something to fly out."
He was actually very nice and agreed that it didn't seem to be our fault and he had no proof that it was, so he would call the other car owner and explain that there wasn't anything they could do. But, not surprisingly, talking to the police was still my excitement for the night.