You are looking at posts that were written in the month of February in the year 2009.
So I’m sailing down the highway on the way into work this morning, spacing out to Moon Safari, when I notice a white Ford SUV on the other side of the highway slowing down. As soon as it pulls into the median I know I’ve been had. I gulp. There’s a new zero-tolerance policy around these parts, and the police force has been instructed to crack down on speeding. The unmarked cruiser makes a u-turn and starts to accelerate toward me, but I’ve been coasting since the moment I spotted it. I slowly apply the brakes and pull over onto the grassy shoulder before the SUV even catches up. The cop pulls in behind me and opens the door, steps out and starts walking toward my car. Then, strangely, the officer does an about-face and leans into the cruiser over the driver’s seat. Only then do the blue lights, hidden in the cab of the unmarked vehicle, flick on. I chuckle.
I roll down the window, turn off the car and get my license and proof of insurance ready. I hold them up as the cop approaches. I’m surprised when a female voice intones, “You’re spoiling me today. Usually I have to chase people down. Thanks for pulling over so quickly.” I smile and hand her my documents. “Registration?” she asks. I find it in the glove box and hand it over.
“Do you know why I stopped you?”
“Well, I knew something was wrong when I saw you pull into the median.”
“Do you know what the speed limit is here?”
“I think it’s forty-five,” I say sheepishly.
“Well, you were doing sixty,” she says in a motherly tone.
“I’m sorry,” I reply.
“Do you have any outstanding tickets on your license?”
“Not that I’m aware of. The last time I got a ticket was in 2008. January 1st, in fact.”
“Ok, I’m going to go run your license. For my safety and yours, please stay in your car.”
I watch as she walks back to the cruiser. I consciously avoid sipping from my tea, so as not to appear too nonchalant. It’s not long before she comes back and puts the license in my hand.
“I can’t do it,” she says. “You’re just too polite, too cooperative. I can’t give you a citation.”
Well I’ll be.
I smile, say thank you, and shake her hand. I roll up the window and do my best to coax Kashmir back onto the highway without too much herky-jerky (the intake hose is cracked and as a result the engine bucks and stutters at low rpm). I don’t want to get pulled over a second time for faulty equipment. My satisfied smile fades, though, as I realize the things I’ve said about police officers in the past. Perhaps I was too quick to judge. I probably shouldn’t generalize. Maybe this is what happens when you’re pulled over by a cop of the opposite gender. Perhaps being observant, polite and cooperative actually pays off. Or maybe it was just my lucky day.
At any rate, today I have nothing but good things to say about the police. And that’s refreshing.