Samuel J. Maggott weighed up the pros and cons. The feisty young female officer did have a very short skirt. And he was going through a very messy divorce. “I’ll take my own Goddamn car,” declared Sam.

And he would have, too, had he not been run down by a very short-sighted officer with thick pebblelensed glasses, who was rather quick off the mark but not at all good at backing up.

“Did I just run over a sleeping policeman?” he asked.

And out into the streets of LA they went.

Dorothy with her foot down hard and Jack bouncing around in the back. The troubled young man in his Ford Mustang, Sally. The feisty young woman in the Cobra. And black-and-white after black-and-white and finally Sam Maggott, who was at last in a squad car.

Now it could be argued that the streets of San Francisco are far better than the streets of LA when it comes to a car chase. They have all those hills and the tramcars that get in the way. And the sea views are nice, too. And in the 1960s, Owlsley would produce the finest LSD that any generation had ever experienced, which although having nothing particularly to do with car chases (although you can have them on acid without actually leaving your armchair) ought to be taken into consideration when it comes to the matter of deciding whether to shoot the car chase for your movie in LA or San Francisco.

Although it could well be argued, in fact it is difficult to argue against, that the best car chase ever filmed was filmed in Paris.[32]

But this was Los Angeles and this was where this car chase was occurring. Now!

And at this point. Before things get very hairy. It might also be worth mentioning that anyone who has never visited LA knows what the headquarters of the Los Angeles Police Department really looks like. It doesn’t look like that big building with the great columns and everything that you see in virtually every crime movie that’s set in LA. That building is, believe it or not, the General Post Office.

The genuine headquarters of the Los Angeles Police Department is housed in an ivory palace that looks like the Taj Mahal, but with feathered wings and pink bubbles and …[33]

Dorothy swung a hard right.

“Speak to me, people, speak to me now,” demanded Sam from his squad car, which was being driven along at some speed by another officer. “Speak to me, what’s happening?”

“Escaped prisoners moving west on Wilshire Boulevard,” came a voice to Sam, the voice of the feisty young female officer. “Am in pursuit. Hey, get back there.”

“Leave this to me,” came the voice of the troubled young detective.

Sam heard the sounds of a Mustang called Sally striking an AC Cobra.

Dorothy put her foot down and glanced into the rear-view mirror. “They seem to be trying to drive each other off the road,” she told Jack, who had struggled up beside her. “This is Koreatown, by the way.”

“Very nice,” said Jack. “Look out!”

A police car travelling south on South Western Avenue crossed their path. Dorothy struck its rear end and sent it spinning around. The feisty young female officer crashed into this car, which put her out of the chase rather too quickly for her liking. The troubled young detective, however, kept on coming and behind him Officer Wong, the fat officer, the gay officer whose day was yet to dawn, but sadly not the short-sighted officer, who was now travelling south on South Broadway and heading for the beach.

Samuel Maggott was close upon the rear of the gay officer, though. Which was something that he would have to discuss with his therapist at a later date.

Dorothy took another turn to the right, north onto Beverly Boulevard.

And what a nice neighbourhood that is.

Although.

A chap in a uniform jumped out in front of the speeding automobile, hand raised, face set in an expression of determination. Dorothy tried to swerve around him, but he jumped once more into her path. Dorothy slewed to a stop. The chap in the uniform with the determined expression on his face came around to the side of the car.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, “but this is Beverly Hills. We don’t allow car chases here, nor tourist buses. You’ll have to go back the way you just came.”

Dorothy glanced once more into the rear-view mirror. The troubled young detective and all the other squad cars had halted at the Wilshire/Beverly intersection. They knew the rules. Some things were just not done.

“Sorry,” said Dorothy, backing up the car.

“What?” went Jack. Astounded.

“It’s an American thing,” Dorothy explained.

“Speak to me, people. Oh, Goddamn!” Sam Maggott’s car slammed into the rear end of the gay officer’s.

And then Sam said, “Goddamn,” once again as Dorothy shot past him, returning the way she had come. “Will somebody shoot that woman?” cried Sam, and he drew out his gun and did it himself.

“Duck to the right,” cried Dorothy.

And Jack ducked to the right.

Bullets sang in through one side window and exited through the other.

“Duck to the right?” said Jack to himself. “That’s what Wallah said to me this morning. ‘Don’t forget to duck to the right.’” And Jack felt sad once more. And somewhat scared, of course.

Police cars were swinging around in further pursuit. Officers in passenger seats, who had mostly non-speaking parts and so needed no particular characterisation, were sliding cartridges into pump-action shotguns and looking forward to firing these.

“This is Chinatown,” said Dorothy to Jack as she took a left to head north on the 110.

Officer Wong overtook Sam Maggot’s car. “This job for me,” he said in his cod-Chinese accent. “This call for much dangerous stunt work performed by me to much applause.” And he climbed out of the window of his speeding car and up onto its roof.

“What is that damn Chinee up to?” Sam asked his driver.

His driver just shrugged, for his was a non-speaking role.

“Whoa! Get down, Jack,” shouted Dorothy as Officer Wong’s car drew level and Officer Wong leapt from the roof of his car and banged down onto theirs.

“That was impressive,” said Jack, “although somewhat above and beyond the call of duty, I would have thought.”

“They’ll give him a medal,” said Dorothy, slamming on the brakes.

Officer Wong flew forward, rolled over the bonnet and fell into the road. Dorothy drove carefully around him. “And a neck brace, too,” she said.

Other police cars were now joining the chase. They do have a lot of police cars in LA. Mostly because during every police chase, they lose so many as they smash into one another and roll over and over into storefronts.

Dorothy swerved. Two police cars smashed into one another. One of them rolled over and over into a storefront.

“South Pasadena,” said Dorothy. “Look – there’s Eddie Park.”[34]

Eddie Park made Jack feel even sadder.

The big fat officer opened fire.

“Duck,” shouted Dorothy as shotgun shells blew out the rear window, causing Jack much distress and considerable ducking.

There was of course much to be enjoyed in all the excitement, in the screaming of tyres upon asphalt and pedestrians leaping out of the way and the motor cars of innocent motorists slamming into one another. And why shouldn’t there be, eh? That’s what car chases are all about. And given their longevity, they probably do have the edge on explosions. Even really big ones.

“Ouch!” went Dorothy as the Mustang called Sally, being driven by the troubled young detective, shunted her rear end.

“Oi!” shouted Jack. “That’s my girlfriend’s rear end you’re shunting.”

And then Jack sort of vanished into the back of the car. Another impact crumpled up some of the boot, causing the rear seat to lift and Jack to roll into the boot.