Monday, August 31, 2009

Sirens And The Babysitter.

I was pulled over tonight while bringing the babysitter home. She said, "Wow, I never thought this would happen on the way home from a babysitting night!"

Then she asked, "Does this happen a lot to you?" I think she was trying to wager whether or not my $7 an hour is worth it. Either that, or tell her dad, the fucking SHERIFF by the way, that I drive too fast.

But here's what gets me every time: "Any idea why I pulled you over?"

I need to know if anyone answers this question. No one in their right mind is going to say, "I was hauling ASS. Sorry about that."

And then the dreaded insurance card requirement. It's beyond me why I can't keep the current blue cards in my car. They expired 7/7.

And every single time I'm busted for it, I explain that my uncle Jimmy is my American Family agent and I'll get him on the case right away. I don't know why the hell I bring my uncle into this. I must think the cop will appreciate that I'm loyal to family or something.

Last year, when I was pulled over for expired tabs, expired insurance, speeding, and
no seatbelt, I asked the cop if he'd like for me to call uncle Jimmy on my cell and speak with him directly.

He said "No", but he wanted to say, "I don't give a SHIT who uncle Jimmy is, you need to get this taken care of. Now."

But I always seem to get off with a warning and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I am truly frightened of anyone in uniform and think they're going to kick the crap out of me. Maybe sensing that fear is enough for them.

When I was sixteen, fresh license in hand, I took my mom's red sunbird for a spin. Like, sixty-five in a thirty, kind of spin. It wasn't long before the red and blue lights twinkled in my rearview mirror. The badged man screamed, "WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR LICENSE, A CRACKER JACK BOX!?"

I got off with a warning. And peed my pants a little.

Another policeman pulled me over for expired tabs about ten years ago. Or so he thought.

"Oh. Got it." I explained, "No, they're not expired, I just put both stickers on the front."

There was a stunned silence while he wondered if I was kidding. I wasn't. Honest to God, I just slapped them both in the front and called it a day. The front of my car had "99" and "99" on it. No month.

He gave me a warning and secretly wondered if I was mentally handicapped.

And you know what? After reading this blog, I'm beginning to wonder that myself.

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