There’s this little straight stretch, just south of here :: It’s great for mashing down the gas and trying out 5th gear :: But it’s also a speed trap, twice I’ve gotten caught :: but somethin’ ’bout it calls to me and I can seem to stop.
With the exception of a few rebel years in my teens, I’ve always been a rule follower. I like rules. They establish boundaries, they encourage success, and whenever I’ve decided to “do it my way”, I always end up in some kind of trouble.
Through driving around this little town we live in, I’ve discovered many different ways to get from point a to point b. A lot of these many different ways involve back roads.
I love back roads.
They’re the roads less traveled. They usually but up to farms, or fields, or other small towns. I can’t get enough of them. And there’s something about driving on a back road, on a sunny day, with your windows down and the wind in your hair, and a great song cranked up nice and loud…..that encourages speeding.
That rule that’s so easily ignored. But I’m running late! But I wasn’t going that fast! But this isn’t even my car, I couldn’t tell how fast I was going! etc., etc., etc.
So there I am, driving down my most favorite stretch of back road (running late for work) when I see one of those sneaky little buggers (one of my uncle’s deputies) hiding behind the gargantuan sign of one of the local farms.
I knew I was speeding. A lot. And so, as soon as I passed him, I slowed down to a stop because I knew I wasn’t getting away with this particular breaking of the rules.
This was my time though – I’m a police officer’s wife and that’s sort of a free pass to get away with”minor” infractions such as these. I was almost excited to be able to use my get out of jail free card as I rarely get pulled over. Seriously, the last time I was pulled over was when I was about 19. That’s 6 years people!
So there I was all ready to get away with murder when the deputy comes up to my car, snatches my license and registration from my hand, (I had it ready and waiting for him, you see) informs me that I was going 77 in a 40, (I actually thought it would be more) and heads back to his car to write up my ticket.
“But WAIT!” I was thinking “Don’t you want to hear all about how my husband is a State Trooper? Don’t you want to just let this slide?”
The husband informs me that you have to tell the officer about your family connections to their kind before they go back to the car to write the ticket. I guess by then, what’s done is done.
I tried consoling myself. “He’ll probably drop the speed. I was so friendly. I called him sir. That has to count for something, right?”
He came back to my car, handed me the ticket on which the speed was not dropped, the fine was $290 and added 5 points to my license. He asked me if I had any questions to which I replied: “Um. Well, I guess not.” (smooth operator) And then he wished me a good day. GROAN.
I called my husband and after being reamed out for 20 minutes about how dangerous it is to be driving so fast, he turned his anger on the deputy for ticketing an officer’s wife. “But he didn’t know! I didn’t tell him! I CALLED HIM SIR!” was all I could say.
“Ok,” he said “This is the game plan. We’re not going to pay the ticket, you’re going to get a court date in the mail, and you’re going to go to court. You’re going to stand before the judge and plead guilty with an explanation, tell him how you were running late for work, and how you have an impeccable driving record. Then you’re going to pray to God that the judge drops the points and gives you probation before judgment.”
“Ok, that sounds good!” I replied “You’re going to come with me right? Sit next to me in your cute little uniform and look all official and stuff?”
“Nope. You got this ticket on your own, and you’re going to defend it on your own.”