Who’s Gonna Kick Daddy’s Butt?

When I joined the fire department in 1984, they gave me a BFD ball cap and a badge. Eventually I was given a white uniform shirt with Bishop Fire Department and American flag patches, etc. This shirt along with a clean pair of Wranglers and cowboy boots combined to make our “dress uniform”. Why we had a dress uniform is beyond me. We seldom wore them except during Fire Prevention Week each October, at parades and solemnly at funerals.

Regardless of the reason I had one, I was very proud of it. It was a source of much pride and unfortunately, in my case, much trouble.

The story begins in January of 1988. It had been a cold, snowy day in Bishop and when we all got home from work and school it was decided that we would go get some dinner. The four of us (pre Alessandra) all piled into our 1986 Nissan Sentra and headed through the dark of the night to El Charro Avitia on North Main St. We liked going to this place because Melodie knew the owner and half the time he’d walk by us and take our bill from us before we could pay it.

While driving there, a large Ford truck turned into the lane next to me and nearly cut me off. When the driver saw how close it was he made a pivotal decision. Rather than slow down and come in the lane behind me, the driver gunned it and whipped in front of me, fishtailing as he did so. This only served to further fuel the ire that had welled up almost instantly.

The actions of the driver caused me to presume it was a 17 year old local boy with no common sense and I began the chase. I pulled up along side of him just to see what this idiot looked like. Without any thought to the matter and certainly no thought to the potential outcome I whipped out my fire department badge and flashed it at the driver. After all, this kid wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between my badge and a cop’s badge. He needed to learn a lesson and I, in my wisdom, had appointed myself the teacher.

As the badge was flashed I realized this wasn’t a kid at all, it was an adult. By the look on his face I could tell he had taken notice. Well….it didn’t matter; even adults, lousy driving adults, could use a scare now and then.

I pulled ahead and by this time had passed my destination. Chips and Salsa were calling and I wasn’t going to waste any more time with this guy. I pulled into the Copeland Lumber parking lot so that I could turn south on Main St and back to dinner. I look in the mirror…geez this guy pulls in behind me and by now I can tell he’s a big dude.

I’m already getting looks from Melodie for flashing the badge, but I take off anyway and head south, but this guy follows me South on Main St. Now I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of my wife, because she is awesome in every situation. However, the first words out her mouth are, “he’s gonna kick your butt.” She repeated this several times as I headed south.

Cara and Charlotte unbuckle themselves and start defrosting the rear window with the sleeves of their jackets, all the time 5 year old Cara is asking, “who’s gonna kick daddy’s butt…who’s gonna kick daddy’s butt?” I tell the girls to sit back down and put their belts on. They do so as Cara asks again, "but who's gonna kick your butt daddy?".

By this time I decide that if that is going to happen it’s going to be at the police station. I drive there and park on the side of the station, all the while I was pretending I never saw this guy following me.

With all the confidence that Melodie had recently instilled in me I stepped from the car only to find he had parked behind me and was exiting his truck too. This guy was huge, probably 6 inches and 100 pounds bigger than me. He called out, “hey, I wanna talk to you”. I looked up and feigned that I was surprised to see him. He continued, “man I owe you an apology…I’m a retired state police from Nevada and I was way out of line back there. I was trying to get your attention, didn’t you see me?” I answered that I hadn’t seen him behind me at all.

After a few minutes of his apologizing and my accepting of his apology, he asked, “so what were you doing here?” Once again, quick on my feet, I declared, “this is the police station; I was going in to file a report.” Of course we agreed that there was no reason to do so.

After about 5 minutes of visiting by the hood of his truck we shook hands and departed company. The whole time the occupants of my car were staring through the rear window at the exchange we were having. I entered the car to Melodie’s silence. Finally she broke it, “what happened”, she asked? I thought for a moment and said, “I gave him a warning.”

From that moment on my fire department badge went on a long sabbatical, only returning to my possession in time to wear it to a funeral of longtime firefighter and friend of the department, Bobby Richards.