You were obsessively polishing your precious car along the main drag of the Balboa Peninsula when I parked my small motorhome for five minutes to walk around the corner. With my long hair and beard, I must have looked like a hippie/terrorist to you. So you called the cops, claiming I'd clipped your neighbor's car after I pulled around the corner to park closer to the beach. When I noticed one of Newport Beach's finest nosing around the back of my RV, I thought my bicycle wasn't racked properly or something. When the cop voiced your concerns, I volunteered that I am not a hippie, but rather an Orange County college professor. It was easy to figure out the real issue since the officer had already checked with the owner of the allegedly dinged car, who could find no damage whatsoever (of course). The cop was “investigating” anyway—because of your contagious paranoia. Maybe your imaginary hippie will return to egg your car on Mischief Night, but that would only confirm your hysteria.
