Don't be like the boyfriend of the lady who owned my car before me.

There's simply nowhere to go.

I like "Cannonball Run" and "Cannonball Run 2" as much as - if not more than - anybody out there. But you don't have to be Rand McNally to realize the obvious: You just can't outrun the po-po in a community with a finite amount of road.

I mention this because a few weeks ago I received that call all owners of affordably priced, compact, used Japanese cars dread.

The lady at the bank had received a letter from the district attorney's office, which wanted to seize my car on behalf of the state. Apparently it was embargoed for sale at some point in 2006, as legal proceedings were underway against the aforementioned drunk rocket scientist.

Nonetheless, the car ended up at a used lot. That's where I found it this winter, back in those glorious 4-foot-snowdrift days when I was still scrounging for quarters amidst the mouse crap behind the dresser, then running down the street like an idiot to catch the Valley No. 1 bus in front of the Breakwater.

The bank lady's news caught me off guard for two reasons:

1. When I was first looking at the car, I assumed - incorrectly - that this kind of thing would have appeared when I forked over the $29.99 for the "unlimited vehicle history report" on CARFAX.com.

2. My car looks like an unripe blueberry, has tires the size of cheddar wheels and feels as if it's running on ball bearings at any speed in excess of 50 mph.

The part that stings me the most is knowing that my vehicle - a wonderful, gallant friend whose undercarriage I've even stooped to tickle - has a secret past I could have never imagined.

Who can say what Johnny Jagermeister was thinking as he sped under the high school skywalk and zoomed toward the bright lights of the Juneau Senior Center?

I like to think he was like my friends and I when we played tag in second grade. We'd run screaming toward the fence, then yell out "Go, go, Gadget-helicopter!" and pretend a horizontal rotor had sprung out of our hat and carried us to safety.

That kind of quick-thinking pays off on the playground, but not necessarily in six-year-old Toyotas with more than 50,000 miles.

• Korry Keeker can be reached at 523-2268 or korry.keeker@juneauempire.com.