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My mind was focused on the day ahead, anticipating problems, planning, worrying — everything except my driving.
I drifted into the small town, vaguely aware of my surroundings until the lights flashed and the siren blipped.
Glancing at the speedometer, I noticed I was traveling a bit more than 45 mph, which meant the policeman was about to lecture me about speeding.
The officer was friendly enough to begin with, asking for my license and insurance, checking to see if I had some sort of emergency. No, I told him, I was just distracted.
Did I know the speed limit was 35? Yes, I knew. I was just distracted, I told him again.
As he went back to his car, I silently hoped he would give me a warning.
The irony here is that I’ve never had a speeding ticket. Other tickets, yes, but not a speeding ticket. My kids think I’m stodgy and slow because I almost inevitably drive the speed limit. North Texas drivers go nuts when they’re stuck behind me. I figure that’s why God inspired Detroit to invent cruise controls.
When the officer returned to my windowside, his demeanor changed.
“There’s going to be a citation,” he snapped. Oh, man. What happened? My record was clean. Why the change?
Maybe in his check he discovered for whom I work. I mean, we haven’t given the town the best publicity lately. Can I help it if the city leaders did the things we reported on?
He hovered by my window, his hand ready to snatch back the pen he’d given me to sign the ticket with, as though I were such a scofflaw I couldn’t be trusted to return it.
Now, the last time I received a ticket, so long ago I can’t remember when it happened, I pleaded no contest, paid a modest court-cost fee and took defensive driving. The process was nearly the same this time. The difference? I was out a serious chunk of change no matter what I did.
Pay the fine? A couple of days wages. Seek deferred adjudication? Same amount of greenbacks plus another half-day’s pay. Take defensive driving? Add the cost for the “administrative fee” to the cost of the course and the cost to obtain my driving record from the state, and it’s about $5 less than the fine would have been.
Just when was it that cities or the state or whoever it was made the decision to make you hurt no matter what?
I chose defensive driving. At least I can save some money on my car insurance.
The moral of these ramblings? Pay attention when you’re driving. You really don’t want a policeman treating you like a pen thief as well as a dangerous traffic outlaw, and if you value your bank balance, you’ll be able to spend your money on more important things, like the gas that fueled your venture into small-town infamy.
Michael O’Connor can be reached at editor@trcle.com.
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