Speed Demon

I guess I will never learn my lesson. What can I say? I like to drive fast. I listen to music and push on my gas pedal a little too hard and I like it. I love to roll down the windows on a cool night and feel the wind whip through my hair. I love watching the signs fly past and the telephone poles zip by. I should have been a race car driver, but we all can't be Danica Patrick, so every once in a while I pretend.
My only problem with this addiction are the many tickets I have received with this passion. It just doesn't seem fair. Now some of these tickets are well deserved, and frankly I lucked out that the policeman was nice enough to say I was only going ten over, when really it was more like 15 or 20. However, a few have totally not been my fault. For instance the time when my husband 'inherited' his grandma's "Ghetto Car", as we so lovingly nick-named it. I had to go somewhere and our other car was broken, so my hubby tells me to just take it. My brother-in-law has been driving it for a year with an expired registration. What is the harm, right? Wrong! I was on the road for a total of 5 minutes before I got pulled over and threatened to have my car impounded as my children cried in the back seat that mommy was being sent to prison. Now these things are not my fault. It is just my bad luck.
I must admit right now that my latest ticket, however, is totally and utterly my fault. I'm on my way to pick up my youngest who is being babysat at the 'Snack Shack' at a football game(long story). In my defense, I am stressed out because it is cold and he doesn't have a jacket, so I am driving a little over the speed limit to go pick him up. Now most people would know that the new police station is right across the street from the High School,but I am oblivious to this fact, so I speed. Sure enough, I spot the cop a bit late, slam on my brakes (making me look not guilty at all, right?), and swerve. So not only am I a speeder, but a reckless driver as well. I pull over even before he turns his lights on and watch as he walks to my car. 'Are you okay, maam?' he asks. And I am thinking this is a strange question until I realize that he thinks I am drunk. I don't know what it is, but even thinking that someone thinks I am guilty makes me feel guilty. I am wondering if maybe I am drunk and just don't know it. So I say, 'I think so?' as I shakily try to get my driver's license out of the stupid tiny pockets they make in wallets for your license. It takes me about two minutes to get it out, and I try not to curse so I look like a nice,frazzled, mormon mom. Finally I hand it over and rifle through the bazillion papers in my glove box looking for the registration information and hand it over as well. I am acting like such an idiot that I am sure he is going to have me walking the line any moment. But I luck out. This has got to be one of the nicest policemen of all time. (I would say 'the nicest' if he hadn't given me a ticket). He asks, "So were you late to pick someone up, or having a bad day, or what?" I tell him my story about the babysitter (and remember that it is a long one), and he nicely lets me off with writing the ticket as if I was only going 10 over. He explains to me that I can go to traffic school 'right over there' and points to a building only about 50 yards away. 'That's the new police station' he smirks. So I have won the right to go to traffic school and the right to wear a stamp on my forehead that says, "I am an idiot".
Oh well, lesson learned, and the lesson is this: It is okay to speed, but it is not okay to speed 50 yards from the new police station.










The Police Station under construction. This is about where I was when I got pulled over. BOO HOO, ME!