This week I experienced a couple of odd events. None of them on their own are important enough to create an entire column so let’s just call it a minor rant, shall we? Wait, I think I’ll just stick with the oddest one this week.
I got pulled over by a Greenwood cop at the corner of Greenbriar and Meadowview this past week. I was driving 37 mph in a 25 zone. I was driving the old “family beater” at the time (this mini-van has been with the family fourteen plus years now and has been relegated to the youngest of the household). The windows don’t roll down anymore so I opened the door to let the policeman know that fact so he would not be offended. In a booming and commanding voice that was surely a precursor to seeing the business end of a gun in my face, he let me know that I was not to open my door for any reason. Such was the volume and hostility in his voice that it resulted in the entire neighborhood coming out to view this officer of the law exact swift justice on yet another miscreant bent on subverting the law. I shut my door as quick as I could and awaited the swift arm of the law. I expected him to swing open the door and snatch me out like they do on the police shows you see on TV. He did not, to my visible relief. He informed me that I had been clocked doing 37 in a 25 zone and instructed me to hand over my license and registration. He left me to await my fate.
Now, do you recall that I told you earlier that I was driving the family beater? Good. It really is what one calls a “beater.” Nothing works anymore save the motor and the radio. It does help, though, in certain situations like the one I now found myself in. People tend to feel sorry for a guy in his mid fifties driving a beater. I know this because three weeks earlier at the exact same corner I now found myself in I had been pulled over for running a stop sign. At that incident, the policeman on duty felt sorry for me and gave me a warning. I was and am eternally grateful for the kindness of the officer that day. I held no illusion that I would gain this new policeman’s favor being as how I had already offended him by opening the door. Surely this time, I would receive neither quarter nor mercy.
The officer came back after leaving me sitting for five minutes or so. He then proceeded to tell me how best to deal with a policeman when one’s window won’t roll down. Then he reminded me that I had just been pulled over at this same spot a few weeks ago and, gee, don’t you know we’re here buddy? He handed me a warning ticket and told me that three would not be a charm.
I have been avoiding that corner ever since.