KH call home

The motor rattled; coughed and died. Hutch swore. Even though he wasn't in the car next to him, Hutch could hear Starsky's dry barking laugh; followed by some quick quip about the provenance of his latest car.

It had always been like this. Starsky drove state of the art (if you could call a paint job like the Torino's 'art') well-tuned performance cars and Hutch drove...well Starsky once referred to them as the "remains the wreckers rejected".

He got out of the car carefully; watching for passing traffic that could swipe the door off its hinges without even noticing. He reflected on this strange urban need for a vehicle that would be more at home in the wilds of Montana than on the Santa Monica Freeway. Even Starsky had fallen into the habit. His present car...what was it he called it? USB? Something like that....was a dark blue monster that reminded Hutch of a cross between a luxury sedan and a Land Rover. It sported a paint job that indicated Captain David Starsky's sense of humor - deep blue with a roof that glittered with a thousand tiny stars when the sun or a streetlight reflected off it. Starsky had a built in 'phone in there too...equipped with a Greenear or whatever. Hutch had finally caved in and accepted a cellphone. He fished it out of his pocket. The screen lit up, displayed a message of despair 'battery weak' and went dark again. Hutch swore and looked around for an emergency phone. He spotted it....at least two hundred yards away. He sighed and started to walk towards it.

He lifted the handset and listened to the hissing crackling static silence that was almost drowned out by the roar of the traffic. "Shit!" He jiggled the buttons. He dropped the receiver and bent to pick it up from where it dangled at the end of the cable. Leaning forward reminded him he'd had a beer too many the night before...he pitched forward and landed on the concrete.

"Please give your position." A disembodied female voice said in his ear.

"I'm sitting on the fucking ground."

The voice was obviously attached to a body after all; the woman laughed. "It often happens, sir. Please confirm that you are calling from emergency installation equipment identified as SM N68"

As he stood up Hutch applied a quick translation to request and looked at the number painted in black on the 'phone. "yes; I am calling from emergency phone SM N68."

"Please confirm that you are on the northbound Santa Monica Freeway."

"Yes I am. Look I...."

"Is your vehicle within one hundred yards of the equipment?"

"More like two hundred."

"Is you vehicle north or south of the equipment?"

"North...look I'm a ....."

"Do you wish for assistance?"

"Yes; my car broke down. Look lady I'm a Pol...."

"You are Polish sir? Do you understand English sir?"

"I'm not Polish I'm a Co...

"Colombian? Hágale comprende inglés?"

He resisted the temptation to answer in Spanish. "Listen to me. I'm a cop; my car has broken down and I need to get to my office."

"Sir, I need proof of that."

"Captain Ken Hutchinson; I work out of Parker Center."