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In a little town in Hurricane, West Virginia, things are not what i would call normal when it comes to the police. I had no idea how akward things where until i started working at a little redneck bar called "the highway". This little bar consists of mainly older men and women. One of the storys i was told reminds me of a mix between dukes of hazards and Andy Griffith. SO here goes. In 1975 we had only two deputys, names i'm not sure of. But there was another little bar up the road called "Southern Pride". On friday nights they would have music, and that was the happening place to go. Well they had a garage around back of the building that these two deputies would hide their crusier in. They would come in the back, change their clothes in the kitchen, and party with everyone. Get super tanked and continue their duties. These two deputies carried on as such for years. It was know that they would pull people, such as my dad who was about 18 at the time, over and say "alright boys i know you got something, hand it over.." and they'd take a drink, hit, or snout of whatever they had. Its funny two me because it reminds me of how simple things use to be, crime wasn't that bad, and rules didn't apply all the time.

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