Diplomatic Immunity -- The Pickup Truck and the Police Driven Volvo Cars. Fairfax Falls Church Cops Weren't Always As Smart As Today. Stolen Diplomatic Papers Could and Were Used. War Story #12, Cool.

(C) 2025 Patrick Tyrrell and RockNRollConcerts.com. All Rights Reserved.

The Falls Church Police Officers and Department used these 1984 Volvo Cars as their police vehicles from 1984 to some time in the mid or late 1990s. Strange, I thought, because they are not very fast, and it surely violated a rule for police departments not to buy Swedish vehicles in The United States.

One sunny early morning, on a Saturday, it was.

A friend I will call, El Dorado, pulled by my house in a black truck. It was a brand new black pickup truck. The back pick-up bed was covered over by a black covering.

El Dorado and me sat in the front, him driving.

We lived in McLean, Virginia.

"Where'd you get this El?"

"This Fu&^*&^*'n Idiot, so-and-so, do you know him?"

"I know who you mean."

"Yeah, his daddy is a Diplomat, the Ambassador to . . .well, I forget what country . . .but anyway."

"Yeah, I remember, he said something about that."

"Yeah, that guy is a loser, he's sleeping, this is his truck. He doesn't know I have it."

"Cool."

"Yeah, he and I were hanging out last night, he was drunk off his ass, and I was driving this truck all night. You know those girls Tanya and her friend Nancy?"

"Yeah, I know them," I said.

"Yeah, they're crashed out, both of them, at his house too, in the room I was sleeping in."

"Right on."

"O.K. Let's go to Falls Church, my friend" El Dorado mentioned, turning the steering wheel towards Falls Church, Virginia.

We proceeded to drive, El Dorado, was a good driver, along Route 123, passed Tyson's Corner. Tysons II had not been built yet, it was the early 1990s, April or May.

He drove the black pickup with diplomatic license plates and official insignia of some other country on it.

We drove into the West Falls Church Metro Station, and circled around. We were just driving around for no reason, just scoping out the local area, to see what was going on.

As we were leaving the Metro station and headed toward Broad Street in Falls Church, a peculiar looking police vehicle veered around a corner towards us and it's blue lights were blinking.

It was one of the white Volvo box-cars the Falls Church Police department used back in those days as it's police cars. Falls Church was the only police force or fire department or ambulance drivers, or any other U.S. government fleet of vehicles that is not U.S. made. Out of thousands and thousands of local town, state and federal government cars all across The United States of America, only The Falls Church Police Department, used non-American made cars ever -- they were 1984 white Volvos, a picture of which is elsewhere on this page. They were made in Switzerland.

"Oh shit. Keep your mouth shut, Pat, I have a plan."

The officer was rather short (which is good because there is not a lot of leg room in those cars). He approached our stolen black truck, walking kind of bowl-legged, his holster on his hip.

Beige pants and blue police uniform, and rectangular glasses.

"Well hello, Officer," my friend, El Dorado said, and my friend smiled.

"Let me see your license and registration please, you ran that stop sign back there," the officer ordered.

"Oh sure, no problem, well, let's see, you know?" my friend said. "I was checking for my license earlier this morning while I was making my coffee -- damn! -- and I never found it. But my lawyer told me before that people have 24 hours in the State of Virginia to 'produce', as the lawyers put it, a driver's license, that's true isn't it, officer?"

"Yes, that happens to be true," said the officer, "and here in Falls Church we adhere to the laws of the commonwealth [of Virginia] as much and only as much as we have to, so let's do this, give me your registration, and I will be charging you with 'failure to adhere to a stop sign.'"

"Yes, sure thing, sir, I am a Diplomat, a visitor to this great land," my friend told him.

My friend opened the glove compartment and pulled out a plastic bag with packets of diplomatic immunity papers, some of which were printed with a dot matrix printer.

"Here they are," my friend handed him the bag of papers.

The Volvo driving police officer went back to his car and entered information from El Dorado's diplomatic immunity papers into his car's computer.

"I can't believe this is going to work El Dorado," I said to my friend.

"It will though, bro, look, watch this," he said biting his fingernails while simultaneously grinding his teeth.

He came back, "Well sir, you are in luck. because of the nature of the traffic violation and due to your illustrious status as being an Ambassador, you are free to go on your way with no ticket today. Have yourselves a nice one, gentlemen."

"Thanks Officer, I'll be more careful next time," my friend who I am calling 'El Dorado' said, waving as he drove away, on a beautiful weekend morning in the Spring of the year.

(C) 2025 Patrick Tyrrell and RckNRollConcerts.com. All Rights reserved.

For More 100% All-True Adventure Stories Starring El Dorado See here:

War Story #13, Bob Dylan -- To Impress My Dad, I Assaulted Bob Dylan on the Stage at Wolf Trap, In VA. To Impress Myself, I got Away with it, Scott's Free. Yeah, And When You Get 4 of us Look OUT!