#speeding

Over the weekend, I drove to Columbus to rejoin a poetry workshop group that I’d been away from for an entire year.  On Friday, I’d stayed out too late and my alarm Saturday morning was not well received.  No matter, I made a strong pot of coffee and vowed to make the best of the day.

As soon as I got on 71 to head north, traffic slowed to a complete stop.  A car flipped over and smashed to pieces was on the shoulder, and a driver was being rushed to the hospital.  I felt for the driver, but I was impatient to get to Columbus, to say Hello again to my writer friends who had been absent in my life for so long.  I turned up Tupac, loud, and tried to stay focused and not fret about the possibility of being late.  I abhor lateness. 

I’d just passed the outlets and knew I only had another fifty minutes or so left in the car.  The speed limit is only 65 on that part of 71, but I was trying to make up for lost time and going over eighty.  I saw a Trooper on the other side of the highway but didn’t think to slow down.  He cut through the median and immediately came up behind me.  Fuck.  I was fixin’ to be pulled over.  I slowed down so he could catch up with me, and as soon as his lights went on, pulled over. 

As he approached, I turned off the Tupac and tried to not be nervous.  Sure I was getting a ticket, I was mentally kicking myself in the ass for being so careless with my speed.  It’s one thing to drive fast, but something entirely different to drive stupid.   

He asked for my license, registration and insurance.  My hand was shaking trying to find my insurance card, and I think he saw that.  In the middle console, I had one of Rubin’s Mason jars full of tea.  The trooper asked if it was moonshine; I flashed a smile and told him it was too early for all that.  He asked why I was travelling to Columbus, and I explained I am a writer, and was heading to workshop.  I peppered in a lot of “No sirs” and “Yes sirs” as much out of respect for the officer as because that’s just how I speak.  He looked at my license, and then back at me.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning.  And I want you to know why.”

“Thank you sir.”

“I’m letting you off because I didn’t have to chase you.  You saw me and knew I was comin’ for ya.” 

“Yes sir, I sure did.”

“So, young lady, slow your ass down and drive carefully.  Good luck with that writing.”

He handed me back my documents and tipped an invisible hat.

“Yes sir, I sure will.”

Talk about a moment of gratitude.