Those flashing baby blues......

So my experience with the law began early at the ripe age of sixteen. It was the summer after tenth grade, an innocent Wednesday evening around 10:30pm. Sandra, Katie, Marie, and I were headed to Wendy's to grab a late night snack, when we passed by the "there is no need for cops in this area" precinct. As we passed by, a cop pulls out, follows behind, and turns on the lights-- "but it can't be me, I'm going the speed limit," I think in my naive little brain. So, I keep going for a bit, until we realize he is indeed after me. So I pull the slightly beaten, gold-circa 1986- Chevrolet Corsica I proudly drove back in the day, into the Kroger parking lot only to find out that "we looked suspicious" and we were out past curfew. Didn't even know there was a curfew but that didn't stop this rent a cop from terrifying us and hauling us into the precinct to do paperwork and calling our parents. We were the first of many young teens harassed by cops for this. I remember thinking I wouldn't be able to hold a job because of my record....

Then enter into college where I had a few minor run-ins with the fire department at Rice Hall, leading toward an exciting afternoon spent in fire safety school. But for the sake of time, let's keep fast forwarding to last year when I rented a car to drive to Statesboro, Georgia. In my defense the pedals were really different, but I did go close to 75 in a 55, which my little dressed in navy friend pointed out to me, when he pulled me over. That is still the largest ticket I have heard of- totaling $400. Just in time for the holidays, thanks.

Then last week, on the road to Tennessee, I see a school zone, with lights flashing, and a cop behind me. What do I do when memories of this $400 ticket come flooding back? Oh, I slow down and actually go the speed limit, maybe a little under 35. I am looking but I don't see indication that the zone has ended, so I continue going around 30 until others behind me start to pass me. I then cautiously speed up to 55mph. I think things are going well until I see the flashing blue lights. I pull over utterly confused and frustrated. The mustached angry man in blue approaches and asks me if everything is okay. I ramble about being out of town and the school zone, and wanting to be a good speed-abiding citizen, all while I'm breaking out in red hives. He then proceeds to belittle me by making fun of me for going so slow. "Mam, when people go as slow as YOU ARE, I get concerned." Then he takes my license and registration to try to find a way to give me a ticket. Defeated, he returns to my car with a warning that only people over the age of 8o receive. Yes, I'm officially a grandma.

Now I just received a notice about unpaid parking tickets. I really cannot win. Big brother is everywhere.......