Back in the '50's we Chicano teenagers would get stopped by the Man for no reason other than we were Chicano's. I remember one Sunday in '54 when Connie and I (before we got married) were listening to Hunter Hancock spin some R & B's on the radio as we cruised Pico Viejo. As we were rolling down the barrio streets, I had a black and white on my tail. I made a right turn, he made a right turn, I made a left turn, he made a left turn, all this while he was riding my rear bumper. I finally got tired of the cat and mouse game, so I pulled over to the dirt edge of the street; Pico Viejo didn't have curbs at the time, not sure if it has them nowadays, he stopped right behind me, got out of his car and walked over to mine and asked me "why did you pull over?"
"You were going to pull me over, so I figure that the sooner we get this game over with, the sooner my girlfriend and I can enjoy our cruising," I said to the Man.
He turned around without saying another word and got back on his ride, and left us sitting there flabbergasted.
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