Blue (and red) light special

I got into my share of trouble growing up. But thankfully, I never had any trouble with the law. My parents are probably thankful for that, too. In fact, I must have some good karma working for me where police are concerned because there were more than a few times in my teen years I could have been arrested for the gross misuse of my vehicle, namely for speeding.

I remember one time in particular I must have been doing about 1,000 mph on a 45. When I came to a stoplight, an officer suddenly appeared at the driver’s-side window. He rapped on it violently. I hadn’t even known a cop was following me. All at once, I became completely aware of red and blue lights flashing behind me, the parked cruiser, and just how much trouble I was in. I rolled down the window, my heart in my throat, and had nothing to say for myself. Just as the officer was about to say something to me, the radio on his shoulder squawked. I didn’t understand the code that came through, and I didn’t understand what the officer said into the mike, but I understood, loud and clear, what he finally said to me:

“If it wasn’t for this call, you little $@!* head, you’d be going to the station right now.”

He raced to his cruiser, pulled a U-turn, and sped off with the lights flashing, leaving me gasping for breath and praying to my steering wheel.
I’m a safe driver now. Very safe. I’ve been ticket free for a long time, and my luck with the police continues to this day.

In early December, I attended a family gathering at my parents’ house in Sun City. When I got there, the house was ablaze with talk about how awful the police were that night. Apparently, on the way to my parents’ house, my oldest brother was pulled over for speeding, my brother-in-law was pulled over for speeding, and earlier in the day, my niece was also pulled over for speeding. Forever the devil’s advocate, I frankly didn’t see what was so awful about the police doing their job, granted everyone said they were going “slightly over.” What I found impressive, though, were the odds that so many of my family members were pulled over in one night. I also found it impressive because usually you’re speeding away from your parents’ house rather than toward it. Go figure.

After the party, I wished everyone goodnight (actually, I more or less gave a quick goodbye and slipped out the garage) and headed out. Before returning home, I had a quick errand to run and stopped at the Walmart across from Sun City. Driving, I was extra cautious, ever mindful of my family members’ unfortunate luck with the police that night.

After I finished at Walmart, I made a left out the parking lot onto Kreutzer and came to stop at the light on 47 and Kreutzer and noticed a cruiser behind me. At this point I knew I’d done nothing wrong, but I made sure to drive like the safest driver this cop has ever followed. The light turned green, I made a right onto 47 and proceeded to Main St., where I made left. The cruiser was still behind me, for now lights dark, just following. I made it about 300 feet on Main St. when the fire department came to life and a couple trucks headed my way, sirens blasting, lights spinning. The cruiser behind me and I both pulled right to let the fire trucks pass. They did, and then the cruiser’s lights started flashing. At this point, I had no idea I was being pulled over, mainly because we were already stopped on the side of the road. Moreover, I couldn’t imagine what I was being pulled over for and thought that maybe it was protocol when fire trucks were on their way to an emergency and the police were in the area that the police accompanied them and that was why the cruiser behind me flashed his lights. However, he made no move to drive past me. Right as I was about to continue down Main St., the cruiser door popped open, and the officer got out.

Okay, I thought, I guess I’m being pulled over, which was the first time I was ever pulled over while I was already pulled over. I didn’t even know that could happen.

As the officer approached, I tried to make myself the most non-threatening man on the planet. I put my hands on the wheel. I rolled down my window.
“License and insurance, please.”

Before I obliged, I had to ask why I was being pulled over because I seriously had no idea. I had made sure I hadn’t sped, I came to complete stops, made 90 degree angle turns, and pulled over to a let a fire truck by. I was a model driver. Except for one thing:
“Your license plate sticker is expired.”

I figure the best way to explain the reminder of this scenario is to let our dialogue do the writing:

Me: “Officer, I honestly can explain this. My car has been in the shop for almost six months. Really. And I just got it back yesterday. In fact, I didn’t even know if I was getting it back. My mechanic was considering buying the car from me to use as a courtesy car (to save on room, I’ll skip past the part where I gave the officer a Brief History on My Car’s Life Story). But when I knew I was getting the car back, I called the state and ordered my new sticker, which I have till the end of the month to do.”

I then handed the officer my driver’s license.

“And insurance card?”

“I don’t have it on me, but I can explain that, too. Because my car was in the shop for so long, I suspended my insurance. I had my agent reinstate it yesterday, though, before I went to pick up my car. He emailed me a temporary card. I just forgot to bring it with me. In fact, I literally live right over there. (I point to my subdivision.) I can go there now and get it for you.”

“Do you have any insurance card on you?”

“Only expired ones.”

“Okay.”

He looked at my license.

“Is this your current address? In Lake in the Hills?”

“No. But again, I can explain that. I swear, in your computer all my info is updated. I just moved to Huntley in June. My license expired only eleven days before I moved, and I didn’t want to go the DMV, get a new license, then go back a couple weeks later to have a new license issued. But, like I said, I did update the information with the state.”

“Okay.”

The officer went back to his cruiser. Meanwhile, although I gave him sound explanations, I was certain I was about to be issued file cabinets’ worth of tickets: expired license plate sticker, no insurance verification, suspicious license, attempt to lure a police officer back to my home.

The officer returned a few minutes later, with, of course, a ticket in his hand.

“Here’s what I’m going to do: I understand about the license plate sticker. You just got the car back, etc…, no big deal. However, this is for driving without proof of insurance. But if you go to court on the date shown with proof you had insurance at the time I pulled you over, the case will be dropped, and you won’t have any fines.”

That’s it? I thought, shocked.

“Thank you, officer. Thank you.”

I drove away, again praying to my steering wheel and thinking I just got the most understanding police officer ever. And that I was maybe a little lucky. Not as lucky, though, as my other brother, who, after hearing at my parents’ house about how my oldest brother, niece, and brother-in-law were all pulled over for speeding, proclaimed, “Really? You all got pulled over? Because I was doing 90 the whole way here.”

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