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So I'm visiting a buddy one night. He's at 669 Market Street, let's say. I park a ways off because the roads are skinny.
As I get out I notice a car pull into the drive on the left, up a ways, high side of the road. No big deal, but it's dark mostly and I hear the engine running.
It backs out and, as its front-left wheel bumps over the rough berm, I see the driver door swing open and shut. No one's in the car! It executes a perfect back-left turn to come toward me, in reverse, and just short of me it executes another perfect right-back turn to swing into the driveway on the down side of the road. Just before I'm sure it's going to slam into the back of their car-port at what is now a pretty good rolling speed, it does another capricious turn onto the lawn - still backwards - and hits the house at a basement window at a 45 degree angle and stoves in the wall a bit. And then all hell breaks loose.
See, that place across the street is a known crack house, and the mounties stationed a guy there for a while to watch it. And while the driver is trying to apologize in broken English after running out of there and come to see where his car wandered to, and is trying to get into his car like he can just drive his car outta there, no-harm no-foul, out comes the guy from sleeping on the other side of that wrecked wall, super upset, badge and gun held in front like they do. Commands are barked. Buddy gets bracelets. It's very exciting as I walk past this mess with the car on the lawn where it was peaceful not 30 sec before.
I get to 669 and my friend says "hey, what was the commotion? Did 666 Market have some drama?" Brother, you have no idea.
Made my day. Prime copypasta right here
It was comical that 666 ~Market was a known crackhouse, though.