FYI.

This story is over 5 years old.

Stuff

Meet the Nieratkos - Yo Gabba Car Chase

Two nights ago I was taking my family to see a live performance of 'Yo Gabba Gabba' when I found myself in a high-speed car chase through three towns followed by police.

There was a time when trouble found me rather easily (mostly due to the situations I put myself in), but I’ve long since left that life behind. I have insured that I will never see another jail cell, bar fight, or dark alley dumpster by entering the Party Protection Plan. All card-carrying members of the Plan are identified by the small little humans they’ve reproduced that somehow, magically, make 9 PM feel like 3 AM and drain the life out of you, leaving you with no desire to wild out.

Advertisement

And yet, somehow, I find myself constantly tested to see if I’m still capable of going down that dark road. A few weeks ago I nearly fought an older man in a pizzeria parking lot. He was wielding a crowbar. As I understood it, he was angry that I stole his parking space, despite the fact that ours were the only two cars in a lot that holds 50, maybe 60 cars. The pizza guys had to break it up. I’m still confused by that one.

Last week I was walking my son and the dog as per daily routine when I saw some piece of shit beating his dog in our quiet little neighborhood. I told him to cut the shit. He told me to mind my business. I told him if he didn’t cut the shit I was going to A) call Animal Control and B) beat the piss out of him before they got there. My kid was starting to get upset by what he was witnessing, which only pissed me off more. I pulled out my cellphone and the guy grabbed his dog by the collar and walked off, but not before telling me, “I know where you live.” To confuse him I responded, “I also know where I live.” You would’ve enjoyed his face as he tried to make sense of that.

I’m telling you, I try my best to avoid these situations. I try to be a mild-mannered super-dad, but these things just find me. They won’t leave me alone. “Every time I try to get out, they pull me back in.” (Side note: The other day my friend said she was quitting the internet. I said, “You can’t quit the internet! Every time you log out, they log you back in!” I didn’t want that joke to get lost, so feel free to use it.)

Advertisement

My friends at Vans, Chris Overholser and Adriana Matthews, scored me and my family Yo Gabba Gabba tickets in New Brunswick, NJ, the town over from mine, on Tuesday. We were planning to grab some food beforehand, have a cocktail, and make an evening out of it. I left early to pick up my nephew in Sayreville. A few blocks away from his house a big Econoline van rear-ended me dead on. It felt a pretty solid shot and my neck immediately seemed jacked. I pulled over to assess the damage, expecting the driver to pull over as well, when he jammed the gas and took off. I didn’t allow myself the split second to be stunned. Instead, I jumped past that straight to anger and said, “F this!” and threw my car in gear and started chasing the guy down. I assumed my car must’ve been pretty banged up, because why else would the van have taken off? I called 911 as I blew a red light to catch up with the guy. He saw me in his rear-view and started passing cars on our very narrow, double-lined Main Street. 911 told me to pull over and they’d get him. I told them I wasn’t letting him go and continued the pursuit.

He took a left onto a side street, cutting off two cars and barely making it around a big rig. The big rig blocked me off for a moment and I almost lost him. I was doing 70 mph in hopes of seeing his van in the distance. I felt like I was chasing OJ’s Bronco. He must’ve thought he lost me and eased up on his speed because I saw him waiting at a red light to go over the bridge into the next town.

Advertisement

“He’s heading over the South River Bridge,” I told 911.

“Pull over, sir. We’ll get him.”

“I’m not stopping until I get him,” I told them.

I shot the traffic light, blazed up the bridge and got on the side of him, “PULL THE FUCK OVER!” I screamed repeatedly.

He said, “OK,” and flipped his turn signal on like he was going to pull into the first parking lot on the right, but then floored it and went straight.

The old fake turn signal move, huh? Now I was pissed AND insulted.

As he made his next turn he got caught at a red light and couldn’t go around because of oncoming traffic. I threw it in park and ran to his van to pull him out but the light turned green and he sped off, waving at me.

WAVING AT ME!

All the while I was thinking my wife’s car was F’d and I’m going to miss Yo Gabba Gabba because I still had to catch this guy, pick up Ethan, and keep stirring the sauce. I got back in my car to pick up the chase, but the cops had located me. I saw a set of cherries flashing behind me.

Then another set.

And another.

And another.

I was leading a pack of five patrol cars chasing this prick.

“Pull over, sir,” The 911 operator said, “The officers are going to cut him off.”

I pulled over to the side of the road and, in textbook form, the cop shoots past me and the van, cuts the wheel, hits the brakes, and blocks the Econo’s progress. The other cars surround him and pull the driver out of the van.

Advertisement

I hopped out of my car to take a look at what I assumed would be total wreckage of my vehicle. Before the thought could be thunk in my head though, I heard the words spoken aloud behind me, “Where’s the damage, sir?” I turned to look at the cop, looked back at the barely noticeable scratch on my bumper and laughed. “It felt like he hit me pretty solid.” I said, “Guess it’s not that bad.”

And had the guy just pulled over to let me look at the car I would’ve said the same thing and we would’ve both been on our way. Instead I had to chase him through three towns and the cops had to arrest him because his license was suspended.

“Do you want an ambulance, sir?” the officer asked.

I should have said yes—two days later my back and neck still feel sore as hell—but instead I said, “I can’t. I’ve got tickets to see

with my kid tonight. And I’m running late.”

After filling out police reports, picking up my nephew, grabbing the family, and stirring the sauce we barely made it to the theater for the curtains opening.

But we did make it.

And it was awesome.

Biz Markie was there, and you can’t beat the Biz:

For more of Yo Gabba Gabba go to Yogabbagabba.com

For more stupid go to Chrisnieratko.com or NJSkateshop.com