Scooter dream

Rock was a little drunk and riding a self-propelled electric scooter through a busy intersection somewhere in southwest Little Rock. There was a road crew there that included a friendly acquaintance of Rock's namee Steve, who had helped him with electrical matters in his house years earlier,
"Rock, how are you, man?" Steve said. "It's good to see you."
Each of the workers, including Steve, were sweaty and coated with dark grime from their work.
"I'm doing well, Steve. It's good to see you, too. I'd love to stop and chat for a while, but why in the fuck would I want to hang out with a bunch filthy, stinky men working on a fucking street crew?"
It was clear to Rock that Steve and his coworkers recognized that he had spoken in jest. They all laughed as he rode away on his scooter.
As Rock turned left at the following intersection, he saw a white state police car pull in behind him. He knew scooters weren't street legal and, no surprise, saw the car's blue lights come on. He wondered how the strong the smell of booze was on his breath.