Linda’s
near brush with the Texas Judicial System got
me to thinking: I need to be
hyper defensive in my driving, because I’m living on borrowed time. At risk of jinxing myself, I’ll tell you I haven’t had a ticket or an accident in
almost 4 years.
Both
the ticket and the accident occurred on the same day, in two different towns,
and my tags were expired 2 days past the unofficial grace period most police
give you. It was not a very good day. I respect and admire the police; however,
the less I see of them, the better I like it. Since I’ve been driving the speed
limit (for the most part), I figure I’m probably due for a police visit.
I
hope I haven’t jinxed myself by thinking
about the absence of police in my life.
Last
night my mind was wandering a little as I drove home, I didn’t think I was
speeding; however, when the blue flashers appeared in my rearview mirror, I
couldn’t tell you what my actual
speed was. To make matters worse, I was on the downside of a viaduct—a place I know is a favorite speed trap of the
local police force.
Shielding
my actions from view (I hoped) as I turned into a parking lot, I snapped my seatbelt into place. It would not
do to add a seat belt fine, to what I already feared was going to be an epic ticket. Waiting for
the Officer to approach my window, I began
the show of rummaging through my purse. I call it a show because I had realized
earlier that I did not have possession of my wallet, money, credit and debit
cards, or driver’s license and insurance card. They were all in my tote
bag. At work. Luckily, I knew my tags were not expired—at least
not until the end of this week.
So,
in review: I pulled over for an as yet
to be announced reason (perhaps speeding, perhaps not); however, I was not wearing my seatbelt, and I did not
have my driver’s license, or my insurance card. I was the poster
child for moving violations. I felt it imperative to keep my mouth shut, speak
only when spoken to, and then do so in the most respectful tone I could muster.
Otherwise the need for a single phone call attached to bail money and an attorney
might soon be required.
The
Officer introduced himself and asked me where I was headed and where I had
been. I told him I was coming from a small country community (it was easier
than telling him where Linda actually lives), and I was on my way to WalMart to
pick up some DDP for work. He asked me another question and had to repeat it four times because I could not
understand what he was asking me! The encounter
reminded me of the Twilight Zone episode
where the spoken words of others were replaced with progressively more
gibberish words. We finally were able to communicate and the Office told me the
reason he pulled me over was “failure to
maintain my lane.” I finally realized, he thought I was drunk! I could hardly keep a
straight face—and I hoped he would not ask me to walk the line, because with my
neuropathy and balance problems, there is no way I would pass the test, even
though I was not drunk. Tired? Yes—I had
been up since 2 am. Distracted? Maybe—I
had been mentally making my list so I could be in and out in under five. But
drunk? Nope. I don’t play that game.
The
Police Officer was able to pull my
information up using my work ID and he decided I was neither drunk nor crazy,
or at least I was not a menace to myself or society. I am actually an upstanding, employed, citizen with
a valid driver’s license, and current insurance. He let me off with a written warning. He never
mentioned the seat belt, and I didn’t mention it. I asked if I needed to present
proof of my license and insurance to the Court like I had another time I didn’t
have my proper documents, he assured me I had to do nothing. Computers can be a
good thing. Although their Big Brother aspect is kind of creepy.
I
decided I must have a guardian angel looking out for me—and she deserves a
raise.
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