Speeder's Luck

For some strange reason, cops have always loved me. Even though I spent the majority of my teens and young adult life breaking all kinds of laws and covenants, I never got in legal trouble for it. Besides that one time I went to jail in Texico, which you can read about in my book once it's finished.

Once, when I was living in Los Angeles, I pulled out of a gas station and made a spur of the moment U-turn. My tires screeched as I whipped around into the left lane. Then I rolled through a red light while turning right. That's when the lights came on behind me. The cop told me I was driving like I was in the Indy 500. I told him I was in a race against time to get to San Francisco. We laughed about it like a couple of old friends, and he told me to drive safely.

A couple of years ago I was at a 12-step conference in Stuart. One of my headlights was out, so I was reluctant to drive at night. Me and a couple of sleep-deprived friends decided that a trip to Denny's was inevitable at about 3 AM. I noticed a couple of squad cars sitting at the top of a bridge we were approaching, and warned my friends that we were about to be pulled over, but not to worry because police love me.

Whenever I get pulled over, I always pull into a parking lot of some sort. It's one of my little tricks. I think the cops like it. On this particular occasion I accidentally turned the wrong way down a one way street. Then, when I did make it to a parking lot, I parked in a handicapped space. My plan was backfiring. When the cop approached my window, he asked me if I had been drinking. The irony! I didn't pull out the "No, as a matter of fact I was just at a 12 step conference" card, because I know that even people with a BAC of .4 or higher still don't park in a handicapped space when they get pulled over. I just said "no."

After calling the entire Stuart police department so they could assemble and laugh at my parking space, the cop gave me a warning and drove away.

Just now, on the way home from a friends house, I was pulled over for going 58 in a 45. Whoops. After the cop ran my license, he came back to my window and told me he'd cut me a break and "just give me a seat belt ticket."

"But I was wearing my seat belt," I said, not realizing how indignant I sounded until I had already said it. Call me spoiled.

"Really, I could have sworn you weren't wearing it when you leaned over to get your registration. Look, I'm cutting you a break here. Maybe I did see it, maybe I didn't."

"Ohhh," I said, understanding what he meant. I feel like I just bribed him, without really having to bribe him. Maybe I bribed him with my pretty blue eyes.

I must be getting greedy, because I'm thinking about fighting this ticket. I did have my seat belt on, after all. I'm thirsty for justice, and this just doesn't sit right with me.