"It's 12am and I'm stuck...in Harlem."

When I lived Connecticut I constantly drove to New York City to visit friends, do my television show, hang out with P. Diddy, etc. It wasn't that far of a trip and to avoid traffic, my usual journeys would take place late in the evening. Nothing was out of the ordinary during this adventure until I was just about to reach the city and my car's clutch started having problems. It kept getting stuck but felt like it had enough ooomph to make it to my destination.

My faithful clutch then took it upon itself and decided the best place to give out would be the moment I reached the city. Harlem that is. Though I had no control of shifting gears, being in neutral I somehow thought I would be able to coast through miles of traffic. Quickly my car's speed ceased and at 0mph I was doing the most violent hip thrusts you can imagine trying to "hump" my car to victory.

Now I'm sitting completely still in the middle of the FDR. After a few minutes of disheartened laughter, I'm contemplating my options and I see a bright flashing in my rearview mirror. Luckily my car wasn't on fire but I see a huge truck that is now closing in on me. Over a loudspeaker I hear "buckle your seatbelt and put your car in neutral." Yeah, it's stuck in neutral tough guy. "...I'm going to push your car off the exit over there and get you on the street. I'll be pushing you but you'll have steer." Fair enough.

So he starts bumping my car and after a few minutes and a healthy dose of whiplash, I'm on the street. Now I'm feeling real good because my car is out of commission and I'm in one of the safest spots in the country, the heart of Harlem. In this ideal situation of course, I try to keep a low profile. Trying to keep a low profile however isn't the easiest thing when the circus on wheels is pushing your car. I felt pretty safe since the lights were flashing and the driver was repeating on his loudspeaker that my car is broke, I need to get it fixed, and that I'm white and have lots of money on me.

It was a good thing I experienced the extreme dangers of "the rough parts" of the city while living in Hartford, so by this point in time I no longer comprehended fear. This aided me in dealing with the fact that a truck driver had just announced my troubles to the homies. If I were a betting man, my money would be on me getting robbed within moments. I stash my jewels and loot in my shoes, pop the hood and get out. Within 10 seconds Shady Character 1 arrives.

SC1: Hey, hey man, I can fix yo ca'.

I realize that he's by himself and that if anything goes down I can take him.

Me: Nah, I'm straight.
SC1: Listen man, you stuck and this a dangerous area...

That's assuring coming from this guy.

SDC1: (Cont'd)...I'll give you a good deal.
Me: I'm straight.

That's when shady character 2 strolls up.

SC2: Wassa problem fellas?

I'm still feeling pretty confident since both of these guys are clearly drug users and not dealers. Immediately they start arguing and almost fight each other vying for who's going to fix my "ca." I however wasn't going to stop them. Shady Character 1 wins the battle and as soon as his nemesis is out of sight he smiles at me, turns around, then darts across the street. I let out a sigh of relief and realize I have to try to magically fix my car or somehow safely get out of this dilemma. I remembered how I got out of many situations like this before with a little gust of wind. I then feel regret overtake me as I remember I left my magic whistle that Link gave me at home.

I call the girl I was going to see and get her voicemail.

John: Hey, it's me. It's 12am and I'm stuck...in Harlem.

I tell her where I am and to come meet me, or at least bring my bullet filled body back to CT.

I'm frustratingly looking at my engine while constantly watching my back. Next thing I know Shady 1 is running towards me with a knife in each hand. I take a deep breath and prepare for battle with a knife-toting crackhead. I'm ready to show this guy everything Mr. Miyagi taught me and then some. To my shock it looks as if he trips and hides under my car. What the?

I get closer and realize this guy had went and gotten tools and is actually trying to be Mr. Mechanic to fix my car. As I'm standing there in shock, he tells me he'll only charge me $5 to fix my car. I can't believe this is happening. I look down to see this guy actually adjusting my clutch. Are you kidding me? This guy seriously knows what he's doing? He then bounces back up.

SC1: Ya, ya, you're gonna need dis piece to get that thang fixed. It costs like $40.

By this time the girl I was going to see meets up with me. I finally get rid of this Shady character by giving him a couple of dollars and my lady friend and I try flagging a cab. No big deal. That was of course until the only 3 cabs that drove by in an entire 1/2 hour time span DIDN'T EVEN STOP. Apparently this was too dangerous of an area for cabbies to stop for any reason. There had recently been random shootings of cab drivers in the area and I'm sure two young white kids on the wrong side of town looked guilty of murder. Sure we robbed plenty of banks and shot at people, but we were no murderers. To our relief, we see a police car and flag it down. We figure we can't go wrong seeking out the help of police officers.

The car slowly pulls over and hesitantly, the window barely gets cracked.

The 2 Officers cautiously look around and don't say a thing.

Me: Um, my car got stuck and we need to get it towed to an auto shop. Is there any tow company open at this hour or anyway you can help?
Officer: What are you guys doing in this area?
Me: (Aside from the fact that I just told you my car is stuck in the middle of Harlem and we're stranded in this dangerous area of town, what we're really doing here is trying to score some dope. You caught us.) Well unfortunately this is where the truck pushed my car and we are trying to get out of here as soon as possible.
Officer: Well, there's nothing we can do.
Me: There's no way you can help us? If you can just let me know of a tow truck company so I can get my car someplace safer than this, that would be great. We're not from the area (actually we are, just trying to get our fix of crack at 1 in the morning) and are kind of in a bad situation as you can see.
Officer: Nope. Nothing we can do.
Me: Well-

The car speeds off. Apparently it was too dangerous for the police to talk to us any longer. We end up safely making it to the nearest subway and catch a train back to Manhattan. Hoping my car had not already been stripped or Shady character trying to sell my car claiming it was his, I immediately call a tow truck company and have to go back to get my car towed. Of course it gets towed to some questionable NYC auto/chop shop where for the part I need I get charged more than Oprah's net worth. Reluctantly I pay realizing I probably could've had Shady Character fix it in exchange for 27 cents and a shoelace.

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