A friend and I were discussing how we thought Starsky and Hutch would operate in our modern world.
The inspiration is a direct quote from Paul Michael Glaser during one of the promotional interviews for that dreadful movie. He said something about himself and David being "a couple of old farts" so what better title for this snippet?
A couple of old farts
It's totally against BCPD policy but then Hutch and I had never paid much mind to the niceties of the rules and regulations. Oh don't get me wrong; I've always been the first to do things 'by the book' when it came to procedures and getting the perps behind bars were they belong. I love that word. It's one of the new ones I learned over the years. I used to call them 'whippos' and freaks; and to be honest I get a kick out of making some of them do the 'perp walk' in front of TV cameras. That's another thing we've had to get used to. Gone are the days when some lone reporter stood outside the courthouse with his microphone and smart suit trying to get his bit on tape for the local news. Oh no! Now we get about a hundred different stations all with their trailers and vans bristling with antennae and satellite dishes and stuff. And the reporters…wow you should see some of them; makes me wish I was thirty years younger. Not that I have any problems on that one either; I don't need the little blue pills – and I have a happy lady at home to prove it.
OK so where was I? Oh yes; so it's against BCPD policy but Hutch and I never could get used to the idea of sitting behind desks so here we are…the only Captains out on the streets. We still do pretty well too. Ok so we don't go chasing guys over fences and stuff but I still do a pretty good hundred yards and Hutch kept up with the karate. I still drive like I always did; Hutch calls it 'boy racer style' and you know what I don't mind if he does because I'm still reckoned to be the best driver in the department – I even give classes at the Academy now. And even though he wears his seatbelt
Hutch still doesn't know how to keep his ass on the seat when I take a corner.
Of course every now and then I get a chance to show off my driving skills and this was one of those times.
We were cruising along wondering if anything was going to happen when the call came in. All units in the vicinity were called to a reported hold up. Hutch called in that we were on the parallel street and on our way. I did a perfect one-eighty and off we went in the direction of the scene.
I parked about fifty yards from the jewelry store and we got out of the car. No-one would have thought we were cops; just a couple of guys who were on their way to get a coffee from the java stop next door. The car was no giveaway either. I don't drive the Torino any more; after the shooting I couldn't face it. I sold it to Merle on condition he re-sprayed it so I'd never see it on the streets. He painted it black and I turned the page. I went through a few muscle cars over the years but when all the world seemed to be driving SUVs it seemed like a good idea for me too. So now I drive a Jeep Grand Cherokee with a few extras under its hood thanks to my old buddy. I had it painted midnight blue and when its under the right might you see what a magician Merle is; the roof glitters like tiny stars in the sky.
As we approached the coffee shop a couple of guys ran out of the jewelry store and Hutch and I headed back to the Jeep. The perps were driving a new Mustang and Hutch laughed as he strapped on his rally-style harness. "You see that Starsk? Another tomato!" The Mustang was bright red; I left the joke where it belonged.
I tucked myself into the traffic keeping a couple of cars between us and the Mustang and Hutch reached for the computer mounted on the dashboard to try to get a make on the registration. While he did that I called in our position and made sure the patrols knew we were involved. A couple of black and whites checked in their positions and then we heard it. The two new hotshots on the force, Willer and Stilson, were in the vicinity too. Now don't get me wrong those kids could be really good cops one day – but not yet. They're too sloppy about procedure for a start. I guess it's because they're the cell-phone generation and they forget that if the button on the mike is pressed down everyone on the wavelength can hear what they say. When we heard what Willer said to his partner Hutch and I exchanged grins.
As we passed the next intersection we heard the siren. Hutch yelled into the radio to tell whoever it was to cut it; but it was too late. The Mustang picked up speed and I pulled out round a small truck to stick with him. I hit the button and the red and blue flashers behind the radiator grill started up; cars got out of our way pretty fast.
The Mustang took a couple of sharp turns and Hutch was fighting to stop the computer from falling to the floor; another sharp turn and he lost the battle; he swore and I laughed because it seems to happen every time.
The chase continued with Hutch calling in our position all the time. (We heard Stilson laugh and say something about us not using the GPS facility on the computer to help the other units track us.) Hutch grunted, he hated being reminded that he is a computer klutz. Truth is he still hasn't worked out how to get the GPS going – and I don't need anything to guide me round the city.
The Mustang swung into a side street and I heard Willer laugh. "Hey they're coming right for us." I watched approvingly as one of my best driving pupils blocked the Mustang with a sharp swerve that even an ABS couldn't resist. I stopped the Jeep to block him from behind.
The two younger cops were out of their car and running after the perps before Hutch and I could get out of the Jeep. I drew my gun and checked the safety and walked ahead. Stilson was chasing one of the two guys from the car when I saw him turn and point his gun at the younger cop. I drew a bead on his knee and fired a single shot. The kid dropped to the ground hugging his leg. His accomplice was thrown off guard and Willer and Hutch got to the other guy together to bring him down to be cuffed.
Stilson walked over to me. "Gee Starsky, nice shot."
"Nice piece of driving too Captain Starsky," Willer added.
Hutch was already reading the perps their rights. I looked at the two hotshots and grinned. "We don't do too badly for a couple of old farts."
At least they laughed.