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5 am, 911 call: a teenager had just run away from home, on foot. I responded immediately and found the kid a couple blocks
away. I took him back home. While I was asking the parents why the kid would run away at 5 am, the answer rings the doorbell:
Two dudes from the Camp for Wayard Youths – I think from Montana – arrived to take the kid away for the start of his very
long re-education. The kid was going to a boarding school for troubled teens. His escorts looked like they were from central
casting; two tall huge guys with bulging biceps, very tight t-shirts, and dog tags. They were going to make sure their charge
made it to the boarding school, which the parents were going to pay for out of pocket; literally tens of thousands of dollars. I
was okay with all of it; the kid needed to be straightened out. Bye bye now!

I cannot count the number of times I’ve had to deal with folks who were freaking out upset over scratches on their cars. Tiny
scratches, sometimes caused by known other people or cars or things, or caused by unknown things. One time a car crashed off
a road and also took out an outside sandwich board advertising sign by a sidewalk. A small scratch about the size of a quarter
on it caused the owner of the sign to freak out on me and demand insurance information from the driver at fault.

Some guy got in a car accident. Aid crew arrived, determined the guy had a head injury. He got his head bandaged and was
being transported to the hospital for a medical evaluation. Halfway there he starts freaking out. The driver of the aid car has to
stop since the guy is bouncing around so much and the crew is trying to restrain him. The patient manages to get a door open
and he bailed out of the aid car on the side of the highway. He then ran across the highway, through the woods, into my
jurisdiction. Broad daylight. I’m looking for him, and I find a helpful citizen who said “Yeah I saw that guy, he ran into the car
rental place over there.” So I go to the car rental business. The staff confirms they just rented him a car. I asked for his name and
address, presuming that’s where he’s heading. “I’m sorry, officer,” the manager said. “I can’t give you that information.” I explain
the story, and the manager insists that it’s policy not to share customer information. I explained again to the manager, speaking
real slowly, that he just rented a car…to a guy with a head injury…and he was therefore not probably safe to drive…high risk to
crash…give…me…name.” Rental car manager had to call corporate across the country. About 30 minutes later, hands me a note
with the man’s name and number on it. “You don’t have a copy of his drivers license?” I asked. “No, we don’t record those,” the
manager replied. I eventually found the head injury guy at home; he had managed to make it home safely somehow. So. If you
ever want to rent a car and you want to go with a company that really, really values your privacy, I can recommend: Enterprise.