Oh, the dreaded flashing lights in your rearview mirror!
First, you convince yourself it's not you,
Glance at the speedometer, and
Make your way to the shoulder.
Then you start planning your elaborate excuse ...
Late for MEme Monday? Jamming to KISS?
Go with the lash batting and cleavage showing ...
or turn on the water works?
There's that awful tap on the glass and lowering of the window.
"License and registration, please ma'am."
Ooooooooh! You're so...
I know what it's like to be busted ... despite the fact that I've only been pulled ovah once in my entire life (knocking on wood) ... and it was a very long time ago ... so long ago that I don't want to do the math because it will be so depressing. I'll just say that I was young, dumb, and newly licensed. But the memory of being busted lingers still in my mind.
I was driving a Pontiac T1000 (the most ridiculous name for a car) ... metallic blue with an after-market moon roof. It looked like this, only blue:
The personalized plates read GO SLOW1 ... I'll give you the chance to laugh your ass off at that one ... or smile fondly, if you knew me back then. My dad's idea of cleverness for this 16 year old daughter; a daily joke amongst my peers. I called that car, "Spunky," which was more sarcastic than true. And I loved that car ... bought with my own hard-earned money and enjoyed for two and a half years of high school.
It was the first day of my summer job, and I was driving my friend Kristen home. I drove Kristen home A LOT. For some odd reason, she never got her license - or drove a car - until she was in her early twenties. She
mooched rides relied on her friends to get her where she needed to go ... and apparently I was a good friend.
Anyway, I was feeling a little giddy ... perhaps giddier than usual ... it was a gorgeous summer day. The Beatles were playing on through the cassette player. The windows and moon roof were open. Life was good. We were about a minute from Kristen's house - tucked in the middle of a quiet little subdivision, and like I said this was a very familiar route for me ... including one of these ...
... which I frequently rolled - blatantly ignored - just about every time I took Kristen home. It seemed like a pointless stop sign; there wasn't ever any traffic coming in the cross direction. On that particular day, I didn't just roll the sign. I tooted my horn and blew right through it. Within seconds of my ridiculously foolish action, I saw a COUNTY SHERIFF'S car pull into my rear view mirror. Lights flashing. I was so very, very BUSTED.
Did I mention that I barely even slowed and I tooted my horn? I am sure that sheriff was fuming! I managed to drive the rest of the way to Kristen's house and pulled into the driveway ... hoping - oh-so-naively - that perhaps the cop car would just drive by.
No such luck.
At first I tried to play it off like I didn't know what I had done wrong. And then I was like, "What stop sign? I didn't see a stop sign." He wondered why I honked my horn twice as I went through the intersection. I didn't have an answer, and my hole was getting deeper. The whole dialogue made me feel belittled and powerless. I was in the wrong, but I also didn't like the way "my superior" was talking to me.
Suddenly, this little flame of anger grew in my gut. I knew that he wanted me to cry. He wanted me to plead for his leniency. He wanted the satisfaction of making me grovel. Perhaps it would've helped. Perhaps he would've let me off with just a warning. But at that moment, I was so enraged by his power trip ... and to be honest, the fact that I was caught ... that I became borderline defiant. I was wrong but I wasn't going to admit that to him. At some point, I even said something like, "I bet you just love it when girls cry. Well, I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction." It felt so good to spat those words at him. He smirked (the nerve!) and handed me a ticket for $100. So much for all my plans for that first summer job paycheck.
Of course, as soon as he pulled away, I broke down and wept like a baby.
Now it's your turn. Link up so I can stop by your place and read about the time you were BUSTED!