Not only did I get a speeding ticket today, but I couldn’t even get my mojo in gear to try to B.S. or flirt my way out of it. In fact, the cop didn’t even get off his cell phone (grrrr!) while writing my ticket. Granted I was in workout clothes, hair in a ponytail, and looking very mommyish….but don’t you at least want to give me a chance, Officer?
If I didn’t have such a sweet history of getting out of traffic trouble, I guess I wouldn’t be so bummed. (I don’t have exact numbers, but I would say I am probably 70-30, in my favor of course.)
My first, and by far most important, escape from trouble was in 1985. I was only 15, and didn’t even have a driving permit, but that didn’t stop me from “borrowing” my uncle’s car and going for a joy ride. The joy ended when I slammed into the back of a brand new Dodge Daytona (it still had paper tags). My uncle’s Trans Am was a mess (remember how they had those headlights that went up and down? Well one wouldn’t stop going up and down….even when I turned off the car.) and I seriously injured my knee, but somehow I managed to talk my way out of even turning over my non-existent driver’s license. I am guessing the cops didn’t give a crap about two teenagers getting in a fender bender, but I definitely saved myself a lot of legal problems. (Although, the world probably would have been a lot safer if I had been busted that night, because I was the proud recipient of SIX speeding tickets between the ages of 16 and 18. Proof that teenagers should not be allowed to drive alone!)
After I turned 18 (and was no longer jail-bait), I walked away ticket-free at least 2 out of every 3 times I was pulled over. And yes, I was pulled over a lot. I like speed. Sometimes I would flirt and sometimes I would have an excuse that worked…late for work with a mean boss, grandparent in hospital, female problems (which can get you out of more than just tickets, ladies), friend in trouble, etc.
Once, the officer let me go because I was jammin‘ to Barry White and he was a big fan too. The last time I was pulled over, about 3 years ago, the cop was so in love with my car that he just asked me questions about it and then let me go (after he sat behind the wheel, of course).
So, these past few years, I have been a much safer driver, mainly because I have important cargo now. He only “clocked” me doing 77 when my speedometer registered 83, so I guess I should be thankful for that.
And don’t worry, the kiddo wasn’t in the car….it was AC/DC that made me speed. Damn that “Thunderstruck.”