But then.......
At 11:30 a.m., dignity and good humour restored, I set out for a friend’s house [leaving Me and Myself at home with the cat], for an afternoon of stitching. Less than half a mile from my house, driving through a grassy area with trees on either side of the road, and no houses, I rounded a bend and before me, on the shoulder, were at least three cop cars with a dizzying array of flashing, twirling lights. Belatedly I paid attention to my speed. And hoped they were so busy with whatever they were there for that they wouldn’t decide to subject me to more trauma. I’d had enough for one day already, remember?
You’ve probably heard of “the Luck of the Irish?” Me too. And I can tell you it’s a fairytale. My heart sank as I saw, in my rearview mirror, that they were not, in fact, too busy with whatever they were there for to come chasing after me. Thirty nine in a thirty mile an hour zone. The shame of it.
The nice young cop explained to me that they’d had a complaint from a resident about people speeding through our neighbourhood. And THAT was what they were there for. Yes, I agreed. We’d all like to see you pull over the construction trucks that come barreling by our houses on two wheels, music blaring, hitting the road in spots, tossing their empty coke cans and burger wrappers onto our lawns…….But instead it seems to be turning into a sheriff’s office fund raiser, judging by the other cars they’d had pulled over. Seeing me distraught, he tried to be comforting, telling me it didn’t mean I was a criminal, it was just an infraction. Yeah. Or maybe an infarction….. Small comfort as I cast my mind back to late May and my U-turn adventures. Repeat offender, that’s me.
By now he was droning on like Charlie Brown’s teacher and I was no longer listening. I was wondering if it was too late to crawl back into bed and burrow down where it was warm and safe, to hide out there until the planets could align themselves more pleasingly….….That, and mutinously muttering all the cuss words I could think of under my breath. So now, surely, that’s enough c.r.a.p. for one week?
But no. Turns out there was more…….
6 comments:
Oh, bless your heart! What could possibly be next, being put in stockades in the town square?
Oh! Molly!!
Molly, I really can't be seen associating with criminals. So can you try to avoid strike three?!?
Here's a little rhyme for to cheer you up;
There was a lively Irish broad name Molly,
With whom, you'd be wise not to fool around,
Although no Gangsta's Moll, by golly,
She sure knew how to speed around town.
She only wanted to be more like her idol, Bonnie,
The famous other half of naughty boy Clyde,
And so remember that she speeds, does our dear Molly,
Before accepting her offer for a ride.
OMG! What could be 'more'??
I had no idea I was reading the words of an arch criminal. Nine miles over the speed limit is just shocking, young lady. Shocking.
I've been there, Molly. I even blogged about it. And the cops had the nerve to call two days later asking for donations to some fund of theirs.
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