The Ticket

I don't have a lead foot. Really. I learned that lesson long ago. The difference in the cost of auto insurance alone is enough to make my broke little butt keep the pedal off the metal.

Except, apparently, when it's finally a beautiful day out, I'm at lunch alone because Yaw came in late, and I am completely and blissfully unaware of anything but the fact that I just got my truck washed, nothing leaked into the cabin, I am on my way to get tacos for lunch (Yum!), and oh, look at those blue lights coming up behind me...

Sigh.

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

I look at my speedometer. Like it's going to tell me something. I am stopped. It reads zero. I certainly hope so. I wish I had looked at the blasted thing about a minute ago.

"No, sir."

"I clocked you at 64 back there and the speed limit in this zone is 50."

Congratulate me, please, on the fact that the words in my head managed to stay there. "SIXTY-FOUR?! OhmygodImsosorryIhadnoideaIwasgoingthatfast." (You have no idea how hard it can be to type an entire sentence in one word and not hit the space bar. But that's how it came out of my mouth so that's how it goes in here. Kinda like at work, but that's another story altogether.)

"Yes, ma'am. I'll take your license to my SUV Cop Car here and I'll be back in just a minute." (OK, those aren't the exact words he said, but I couldn't help noticing that it was an SUV, which I thought was pretty darn cool, even though I knew I was totally going to get a ticket.)

While he was gone, I decided that the five minutes I had remaining for lunch were definitely not enough time to finish being punished, stop for lunch, and get back to my desk and logged on the phones by noon. I picked up my cell phone and started dialing work. I was apparently a bit rattled. It took 3 tries to actually get my work number, which I give out at least 50 times a day to clients.

I finally got it right, and spoke to Wendy, letting her know I would be late because I got pulled over. I could see Mr. Stern Cop Man working his computer and doing Cop things in his SUV Cop Car and I kept my eye on him in the rear view so I could get off the phone when got out.

He got out, and I said "I have to get my ticket now. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He came up to the window and noted that I was putting my phone away. He decided to make sure I wasn't talking on the phone when he clocked me. "No sir, I was just calling work to tell them I'd be late." (rezzafrezzammmphth)

(The following section is the cop's real comments, or pretty close to them, but as you read mine, realize they are not the words I said, only the words I thought. I did not really want to be clapped in irons and taken to the brig. I just wanted to say words that I kept inside.)

"I reduced your fine to what it would be for 59 since you were wearing your seatbelt."

"How can I thank you enough? Would you like me to rub your feet?"

"You have the choice of going to court or paying the fine."

"Hmmm, which will it be? I can hardly contain the excitement I feel at having such a choice to make!"

"If you do not take any action on this citation by the allowed time period, additional fines will be incurred and you could face further penalties up to and including suspension of your license."

"Will it be suspended over flames or boiling oil? Do I get to choose that as well?"

"Your citation shows where your fine is reduced for the use of your seatbelt. This other page is the fine schedule with further info on ways you can pay your fine and where."

"My, that certainly is a FINE schedule."

"Slow it down and have a nice day."

Sigh.

Back at work, I went over to Yaw's desk, handed him his lunch and said I'm sitting down now before I get another ticket. Then I had to explain myself. He said I need a radar detector. I said no I don't. I don't usually drive like that. Besides, I'd be more afraid of getting caught with that than I would be of speeding, so I'd never go above the speed limit. That's me. Rebel on the outside, scardy-pussy-cat on the inside. Move over Binks, there's a new chicken in town.

Oh, and I have a leak somewhere. Transmission fluid according to Mike. I'll have to figure that one out. Don't need THAT blowing up on me. It's a good thing they understand the concept of kitty litter for driveway clean-up. Seems like every time I go over there lately I leave a present behind. Maybe I should just stop visiting them. Then I wouldn't leak anymore, right?