When I was fresh out of college in 1985, my Uncle Mac recruited me to be the "designated driver" of a big RV all the way to Alaska and back. He and three of his cronies were newly retired cops, and they expected to need a designated driver. During the less interesting parts of the journey, I persuaded them to tell stories from their police careers. I learned more than I had bargained for, but promised not to reveal the more incriminating parts until after they were all gone. Now that time has arrived.