Ok so it's not Honda's first ticket. It's her first SPEEDING ticket. She and I did receive a ticket last year for going too slowly through a canyon that was on fire. Fortunately, the courts saw (via US mail) how ludicrous that ticket was and we were vindicated.
Today I received my first speeding ticket.
For going 80 on a freeway in the middle of nowhere. I believe the officer was fearful I was going to hit a tumble weed or possibly a cow if it could get over the fences along the freeway. Whatever his reason for guarding the speeds of desolate road, the actual speed limit was 70. I drove the rest of my journey going 65 mph--much to the chagrin of most of my fellow road warriors.
The interesting thing wasn't the ticket, but the officer's response to me.
First the guy pulled up beside me and with his "you! get out of the gene pool!" look and yanked his thumb for me to follow him to the side of the road. So much for blaring lights.
For as blank as the rode was this morning, I could have stopped in the middle of the freeway but I went through the motions of pulling over to the side of the dusty, weed-filled road.
When I rolled down the window the scowling officer poked his head down into my passenger side window. The first thing out of his mouth?
"How old are you?" he asked, apparently surprised. So I look young. But not too young to drive a car. But perhaps I look too young to drive my car. According to my friends, my car-type is known for being the do-no-good-ers vehicle of choice.
"What'd I do?" I asked, genuinely surprised at my situation. Were my tags overdue?
"You were speeding. Hold on...." he took off, wrote me the ticket and then returned to say:
"I lessened it by nine."
"Nine what?" (points?)
He looked surprised.
"I've never received a speeding ticket before." I added with a sheepish look. He looked surprised and genuinely guilt-ridden.
"I dropped it down by nine miles per hour." he said. Sooo...did I get a ticket for going 1 mph over the speed limit?
"Don't worry, we all do it," he said sympathetically. I cocked my head in confusion. "You just get distracted and you don't realize how fast you're going..." he continued.
What is this, confession? I wondered snidely.
Then the kicker:
He patted my arm (do I know you?!) and said:
"Forgive me sweetheart, I'm just doing my job."
Endearing, maybe. Yet odd. It wasn't like I was crying.
Perhaps he felt badly for pulling over a female driving a car that looked like it had lost every illegal drag race in the state. Perhaps he thought he was going to make a drug bust on a perfectly beat-up vehicle and ended up dissapointed at the small woman whose day he ruined. Perhaps he felt badly for being the first person to give me a ticket.
My main thought after driving off was, wouldn't it be strange to do a job where you felt the need to say "Forgive me, I'm just doing my job?"
I don't mean to extrapolate beyond reasonable parameters here, (I deserved what I received) but isn't that the catch-phrase of generations of evil-doing? Not the action of pulling me over---but rather the mentality behind his words.
Today I received my first speeding ticket.
For going 80 on a freeway in the middle of nowhere. I believe the officer was fearful I was going to hit a tumble weed or possibly a cow if it could get over the fences along the freeway. Whatever his reason for guarding the speeds of desolate road, the actual speed limit was 70. I drove the rest of my journey going 65 mph--much to the chagrin of most of my fellow road warriors.
The interesting thing wasn't the ticket, but the officer's response to me.
First the guy pulled up beside me and with his "you! get out of the gene pool!" look and yanked his thumb for me to follow him to the side of the road. So much for blaring lights.
For as blank as the rode was this morning, I could have stopped in the middle of the freeway but I went through the motions of pulling over to the side of the dusty, weed-filled road.
When I rolled down the window the scowling officer poked his head down into my passenger side window. The first thing out of his mouth?
"How old are you?" he asked, apparently surprised. So I look young. But not too young to drive a car. But perhaps I look too young to drive my car. According to my friends, my car-type is known for being the do-no-good-ers vehicle of choice.
"What'd I do?" I asked, genuinely surprised at my situation. Were my tags overdue?
"You were speeding. Hold on...." he took off, wrote me the ticket and then returned to say:
"I lessened it by nine."
"Nine what?" (points?)
He looked surprised.
"I've never received a speeding ticket before." I added with a sheepish look. He looked surprised and genuinely guilt-ridden.
"I dropped it down by nine miles per hour." he said. Sooo...did I get a ticket for going 1 mph over the speed limit?
"Don't worry, we all do it," he said sympathetically. I cocked my head in confusion. "You just get distracted and you don't realize how fast you're going..." he continued.
What is this, confession? I wondered snidely.
Then the kicker:
He patted my arm (do I know you?!) and said:
"Forgive me sweetheart, I'm just doing my job."
Endearing, maybe. Yet odd. It wasn't like I was crying.
Perhaps he felt badly for pulling over a female driving a car that looked like it had lost every illegal drag race in the state. Perhaps he thought he was going to make a drug bust on a perfectly beat-up vehicle and ended up dissapointed at the small woman whose day he ruined. Perhaps he felt badly for being the first person to give me a ticket.
My main thought after driving off was, wouldn't it be strange to do a job where you felt the need to say "Forgive me, I'm just doing my job?"
I don't mean to extrapolate beyond reasonable parameters here, (I deserved what I received) but isn't that the catch-phrase of generations of evil-doing? Not the action of pulling me over---but rather the mentality behind his words.
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