Almost Busted

Last night on my way home from class, I stopped for gas at a very well-lighted Shell station right before the freeway entrance. Toodling along on I-71, listening to a mix CD, I noticed the traffic slowing as we approached the municipality of Linndale. Linndale is a tiny community, encompassing only a few hundred yards of the freeway, and is universally known as a notorious speed trap. The general impression is that nailing speeders is their primary means of municipal income. There is almost always a cop car lurking on the far left shoulder under the overpass, just waiting for the opportunity to score.

The speed limit on that part of the freeway is 60. I saw the cop car and checked my perfectly illuminated speedometer display. It read about 58 mph. All was well with the world. No one around me was speeding, either.

After passing the bridge, I glanced up at my rear-view mirror. I saw that the cop had started his flashing lights. I figured that this was a don't-mess-with-me display, not unlike that of a cobra flaring its hood or a dog baring its fangs, just to warn people to slow down. But then he started moving, with the lights. I wondered who he was after. Usually, they don't bother unless someone is going recklessly fast, weaving in and out, etc., and I didn't see anyone around me who wasn't on their best driving behavior.

Pretty soon, I saw the lights in the lane right behind me, and realized he was after me. I pulled over, having no idea what I'd done. My heart started pounding. What on earth did I do? The thought of a moving violation jacking our insurance rates through the roof gave me a sinking feeling. A young cop got out, came up to me, and asked for my driver's license and proof of insurance. And then asked me if I realized I had been driving without my lights on!

I had no idea. Obviously, I had turned them off when I stopped for gas and never remembered to turn them back on. The streetlights lit the road so brightly, I couldn't even tell the difference. He spent several minutes in the cop car, presumably writing me up. Ugh, what a stupid brain fart. And for that, I would probably have to pay a ticket (a day's pay or so) and then eventually an extra week's pay on next year's insurance premium. This suuucks!

After making me sweat for a few interminable minutes, he came back to my window to hand me back my documents. I said I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed about the lights. He asked, "You didn't notice that your dashboard display was dark?" I showed him that the dashboard is fully lit whether the lights are on or off, and I really had no idea. He then said, "Well, remember to drive with your lights on from now on."

Sweet--I got off with a warning, and no ticket! That hasn't happened to me for 15-20 years. I guess that means my feminine charms are still good enough to get me out of a jam. More likely, I reminded him of his mom. :-)