Friday, April 13, 2012

Off The Hook

Let me just share with you the reason why I had not just one mini panic attack this morning...but two mini panic attacks on my way to school.  The PO-LICE.  (And I say it this way because I had to explain to my kids yesterday, while talking about blends, that police is not a "pl" word.) 

Panic Attack 1. 
I was passing through a stop light and I saw a police car coming from the other direction. 

 It was from Chandler. 

 I was in Evansville. 

 No need to panic. 

I look in my rear view mirror (through my still dew-y back window) to see a white car following me. 



I was going 60 in a 40...YIKES! 

My next thought was "Can Chandler police pull cars over in Evansville?!? I feel like that's not allowed."

I slow down, keep driving, hoping that somehow my car is invisible to him. 

Then I realize, as the defrost kicks in, that it is not in-fact a cop car, but simply a white car.  A Chrysler actually.


Panic Attack 2.

Fast Forward to 5  minutes later.

I had just made the turn from my previous panic attack.

Here I am driving along, not a car in sight. (I consider this long stretch of highway my personal race track because it is so smooth, and there is never any cars on it at 6:45 am.  Here is why I should not think that.)


Sheriff!  Hiding in the grassy plain that is the median.  Brown sheriff car, brown grass.  Somehow that seems unfair right?

I check my speed.

Wait was I speeding? Ah! I don't know.  What is the speed limit on this thing? 70? 60? 50?  I was going 65!

I slow down...pass him...look in the rear view...

Wait for it.  Wait for it.

PHEW! He didn't move.

And it's a good thing because I had gotten pulled over in approximately the same area earlier in the year.  (Again, not actually my personal race track)

Now let me share with you the reason why I get these little "I'm getting pulled over panic-attacks".  I'm sure I'm not the only one this happens to.

 I was driving up to Loogootee, Indiana to visit my friend Megan (Hi Megan!).  While talking to my mom on the phone, I drove into the small town (even smaller than Loogootee) of Petersburg, which is notorious for pulling people over for speeding.  We drive through Petersburg all the time when going to visit the boy's family, so I know this.  I also know that the speed limit drops really drastically as soon as you come into town. 

I'm driving along.  Doo doo doo. Coming into town.  Doo doo doo.  Talking on the phone. 

I see a cop coming from the other direction.

Check my speed.  Say some bad words.  @#$% @#$% @#$%

Look in my rear view to see if he turns around.

He does.

Does he pull me over right away?


He follows me for at least two blocks (all the while my heart is pounding, my chest is getting all red and splotchy, and I'm thinking "Maybe he's not going to pull me over after all.").  He followed me for what seemed like 5 minutes.  I had almost forgotten the reason why I was panicking in the first place! Almost. 

Then, FINALLY he turns on his lights and pulls me over.

I roll down my window, blah, blah, blah.

He comes up and is all pretending like everything is just peachy, asking me how my day is going like he knows me.  He explained to me how the speed limit drops, and I pretended like I had no idea, batted my eyelashes, and said in my most charming, girlish voice "I'm sorry sir.  I have never been here." 


But it worked!

He went back to his car looked me up and told me I could go, but to watch my speed through the rest of town. 

Then he went off to stop some go-carting that was happening down the road. 


Off the hook again! 

Now you would think I would have learned my lesson by now, but I'm sure come Monday I'll be back to my normal self. 

Happy Friday!  I'm off to see the Hunger Games!  Finally!


Post a Comment

Content My Life with a Cherry on Top | Design Copyright Poppiness Designs