40 in a 30

by

Patti Dickinson

I confess. I have a lead foot. Wood would tell you that I can drive a GMC truck as if it's a sports car. That's a compliment, right?

I left the house this afternoon to drive over to Elizabeth's so she and I could go to lunch. Got in a bit of a hurry. Ten miles per hour too much of a hurry. I see the cruiser, lurch the car to slow down the forward momentum (I've often wondered what cops think when they see cars doing that) but my timing was off. I registered on the radar. Quick little "Wrrrrp" of the siren and I was busted. I pulled over and by the time he got to my driver's side window I had my driver's license ready. He looked at me, I returned the look and said, with a smile on my face. "You got me." I guess the usual reaction is more toward the "&%#$*" end of the spectrum, because he smiled, but tilted his head and looked like it was paining him just a bit to have to do this to me. So I said, "Hey, it's okay. You got me fair and square." He took my license. I said, "I live right up the street...." and he made eye contact again and said, "This one's on me. Bad idea to speed in your neighborhood."

What a day brightener.