Perhaps the most exciting part of this holiday break was not the same old Chinese-styled potluck with the extended family back in New York on Thanksgiving day, or the equally-traditional pilgrimage to the shopping mall the next day, or even the incredibly incredible Incredibles animated feature we watched Saturday night. It was last night, when Melody and I were walking down the very street I live on, when it happened. It was around 2am in the morning and the winter cold was bearing down upon us. The streets were dead quiet as we were crossing an intersection. All of the sudden, we heard the sound of screeching tires as a police car raced down the street, drifting slightly as it turned the corner. As we watched the flashing blue lights speed into the distance, we heard once again the sound of rubber grinding upon the pavement. Before we could even make out what was going on, we saw a small red sedan charging back along the same street, followed quickly after by that same police car but driving in reverse! Behind them were three other police cars, ominously following with flickering blue lights and no sirens. The whole thing happened in the matter of seconds, and we were left with nothing but the smell of burnt rubber. Having grown up in New York City (in Brooklyn, no less), it’s ironic that the first police chase I witnessed would happen in the quiet town of Brookline. Who would’ve thunk?