Smart Ass

While working in California I discovered that my ass can dial my phone. I am not sure how but my wife says that she overheard a conversation and no one  on the other end was listening. I was driving from California to Arizona to return home and it is a pretty long drive. I try to obey the speed limits but have been known to bend them especially on the long stretches of desert driving where they only patrol with aircraft.

I was almost home, less than a couple of miles when I saw the red lights in my rear view mirror. I pulled over and turned off my engine, waiting quietly for the bad news. I think it was a Highway Patrol officer, it was very dark and he approached my car from the rear. I am such a very dangerous fellow after all. He informed me how fast I was going and looked down on me.

I thought to myself that a nice rack would really come in handy about now. It’s not that the pair I have are unremarkable but there is no cleavage and I have been trying to reduce. I started babbling, “I know the speed limit back there is 45 MPH, It has been a very long day, I live right up the hill over there” I pointed. I had not even handed over my drivers license yet.

He asked for my license and went back to check me for priors. I have been doing well on the moving violation front. I have been in Arizona three years and have not even been stopped once. I waited expecting the worst, after all I wasn’t going that fast, I was completely sober, just running on caffeine I rationalized. Whats the worst case scenario.

The officer returned to my car and handed my license back to me. Just watch your speed sir (Sir?) and have a good evening. I was stunned. I never get stopped and get let off with a warning. Like I said I am not that cute. I thanked the officer “Thank you so much” and slowly drove away, very slowly.

You may not think that this is such a big deal but my pulse still quickens just recounting the story. I am just about ready to resume blogging and I will post something more interesting tomorrow to celebrate.


This entry was posted in Being Cranky. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s