No time to mess around. In a rush of cowardness, you put on some pants and a t-shirt, grab your keys, and carefully get outside your window. You smoothly land on the wet grass of your frontyard. Your '91 Mustang is still in the alley. Good. Without losing more time , you enter the vehicle, lock the doors, and speed away. But where to go now? What about by Ana's place, your girlfriend? Or maybe the nearset police station?