Robert Miles and That Time he Stole an Ice Cream Van

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‘Hurry up, Digby!’ I sneer through gritted teeth. I’m sat behind the wheel gripping onto the keys like they might vanish if I let go. I’m itching to turn them. Itching to go. We really need to go.

Digby needed to go too.

But there ain’t nowhere to stop and pee when you’re driving through the country side in the dead of night. Or rather, nowhere that ain’t natures toilet.

Smithy and Ron have got their backs to Digby and got their coats wide so to form a barrier around him. Ron has binoculars pointed at where we come from, ‘cause we need to go for a reason, and that reason is that we stole this vehicle out from Tom Parsley’s garage and we’re preeeeeeety sure that he’s already got the cops on our bag.

Bad thing is that this little thing ain’t that fast at all.

It’s a bloody ice cream van.

‘You done yet?’ I jab once more.

‘calm down! I’m zipping up now!’

‘What the hell did you drink?’ Smithy says, taking down his side of the barrier.

‘Don’t have a go at me,’ Digby says. ‘I ain’t the one that stole a bloomin’ ice cream van. You still not telling why you did that, ain’t you?’

‘Just hurry up and get in. All will be explained once we get out of the county.’

‘We’re going that far?’ Digby has worry in his voice, but I don’t understand why he’s getting worried just now. This is obviously a very serious situation.

I lean out the window and thrust a thumb towards the back. ‘Just get in.’

‘Shit, it’s the Fuzz!’ Ron screams. Well, does that thing where he’s still trying to be really quiet but you can tell by how the words come out that if he could scream them he would.

Smithy pulls open the back doors that lead to the bit with the ice creams and such. Digby climbs up and curls in a corner just by some boxes that have cones in them. Ron follows, and perches by the window where Mr. ice cream man would hand over children’s 99’s. I wanted to say where Tom would give ice creams from, though I don’t remember him ever being anything more than a pet shop owner, and this little van seems a bit outdated compared to what we see in the park.

I hope he won’t miss it.

Then Smithy crawls in and pulls the doors shut behind him. He stays there, like guarding a castle.

‘How far away?’ I ask, turning the keys at last.

‘Can see them over Ironbridge hill,’ Ron says, binoculars glued to his face. ‘Turned right at the junction, so will be here ‘bout five minutes.’

I can see a glimmer of red and blue dancing in the night sky in the very far distance. Benefit of country roads is they go on for miles and you can see every nook and cranny. Countryside ain’t got nothing to hide, but then again, that makes the next hour for me even harder.

I flaw the throttle and the van coughs, but it pulls away eventually. Dammit, why did it have to be Tom Parsley’s garage? The old thing is trying, I can feel it build up speed, chugging across the country road and taking every single bump and bash it throws at it. Don’t know how we’re gonna get out of this though, but I need to. We, need to.

‘Robert!’ Digby yells, ‘Why’s the police on us? What have you done?’

‘Did you think this was MY ice cream van?’ I say. ‘Do you think I can legally drive? The least of my worries right now is I get done for not having a licence.’

‘Wait, What? I see you drive all the time! You’re driving right now! You got that battered up Ford for your eighteenth you told me.’

‘Was that my story when I met you?’ I chuckle for a second to myself. ‘Ford’s my dad’s, he’s never around. Got into the gang, learned to drive with it, and I’m only sixteen.’

‘You’re kidding me?’ Digby yells. I can see Ron and Smithy looking at each other in the mirror, giving that look of ‘oh that Robert, he never changes.’ Digby is new, but those two have been putting up with my bullshit for a long time.

‘Police on our trail. Three minutes,’ Ron says. Right on que their sirens flare up and scream at us through the night. I grit my teeth and try push this stupid thing faster.

‘Is there anything else you’re lying to me about?’ Digby sneers.

‘Digby, now is not the time!’ I say.

‘Deploy the smoke bomb, Rob?’ Smithy says.

‘Yes! Godammit yes!’

Smithy takes out a couple of small spheres from his coat and inches the door open. He pulls out a tab and throws one out into the night, the smoke mixing with the crisp, frosty nights sky. Smithy has been holding on to the door for dear life but I run over a bump I don’t see and it shoots out of his hand and he nearly goes flying. Digby screams and Ron swoops down and catches him by his coat’s hood. He gags and gasps but he ain’t roadkill at least.

‘Digby! Get the door!’ I scream. The sirens are blasting now. They’re only a few moments away. I need to find a way out of this, but first Digby needs to close the godamn door so they don’t catch a glimpse of their faces. They know me, they’re after me, but I ain’t having them drag these guys down without them getting their part of the deal first.

Digby dives for the back and because his arms are freakishly strong he grabs the swinging door as it’s flailing about like a piece of paper in the wind and slams it shut.

‘Were you lying about the boat? Or was that your dad’s too?’

‘This is not, The. Time. Digby!’

‘Police on our back!’ Ron shouts.

And then I see it. The end of the road. It turns to the left but straight ahead is a dense forest and bushes and darkness. There’s a sign signalling the turning but if I can swerve my way around that I can book it through the trees.

I can hear my dad’s voice speaking now.

Do it.

What’s the danger?

You’ll die anyway.

‘Hold on tight guys!’ I scream, and I see them all roll up into little human parcels with their hands over their heads. The police are inches away, their garing lights lighting up the whole countryside turning it red blue red blue red blue. I gotta time this right. I can do this. I can do this.

NOW.

I pull on the wheel so hard I think maybe I’ve broken it as it starts to clatter and screech and the whole ice cream van turns and I can feel it shifting onto its two right wheels and I yell. Everyone yells. The sign clangs against the wing mirror and knocks it clean off but we make it around. And we’re into the forest.

And a moment later I hear the clang of a puny little police car falling face first into the sign.