The Ticket

So I recently looked over my first post and saw all that had been promised forth within concerning the contents and layout of this blog and would like to clarify the turn it has taken. Obviously I have not been posting drawings or reviews for "books without pictures" as this requires time, which I don't always have. In order to think of illustrations to do, one must first read a book in its entirety, which I have not done for a few months now (consequently, I have started and not finished about six different books, but this is pretty normal for me--what can I say? I get distracted). But, I've decided not to worry about sticking with formalities; it is, after all, my blog, so I will post what I will, and that will be that.

Thus having said that...

I've been thinking about my speeding ticket lately. Is it just me, or have there been more cops on patrol lately? As I was driving to the store today, I saw about three different flashing lights. Anyways that, and the fact that my defensive driving deadline is rapidly approaching, caused me to think about the actual day when I was pulled over myself, and I had to laugh at how insignificant it all seems now, and what a big deal it was when it happened. And then I remembered that I had written an entry the night after to just get my thoughts on paper. As I read it now, I feel slightly ridiculous and feel the need to apologize for how trivial this may be for probably most who read this, but then perhaps it will be pathetically entertaining, or... something. Anyways, without further ado, my recount of my first ticket...

"Something happens to a person when they receive their first speeding ticket. As those flashing lights come up as you’re driving, a surreal feeling of guilt comes over your being as you realize that those sirens are meant for you and not some other law breaking vagabond.The world becomes more real and dangerous as you realize that yes, the law applies to you too. I am not a law breaking vagabond, or a speed demon on the roads (not really). I do prefer to go fast as opposed to a granny slow, but I automatically cease pressing down my pedal once I’m about five miles over. This was the night when my innocence was snatched away and I felt as if I had become part of that crowd. A big deal? Perhaps not. But in the eyes of an 18 year old driving not yet a full year, such an experience creates some perspective.

"I had been dreading my first speeding ticket ever since I was given my license. It happened to everybody, why would I be the exception? While there were days when I thought that perhaps I would be the perfect exception and never see those lights flash behind me, there was always the recurring question of what would it be like? In the movies and TV shows, things are much more dramatic, and the drivers always found something witty to say or were even able to get off with an excuse. As is usually the case, movies do not prepare you for real life. However, before we jump the gun to when the sirens first sounded, let’s take a few steps back and set the scene.

"It was a cold Friday night, and I had just got clocked out from my job at the local frozen yogurt establishment. Being close to midnight, I just wanted to get home, take a hot shower, and wind down. I had pulled out of the parking lot expecting to go the way I usually do, when I noticed the blockades on the road and heard the sounds of construction. The quick way thwarted, I was forced to take the winding back roads. My music was turned up loud, and I was in a daze as I made the numerous turns just going through the motions as I usually would. This night was the same as any other night. The streets were dead, and I had one last turn to go before reaching the turn in to my neighborhood. Turning at the light, I would be on this last road for less than 30 seconds before I turned again. 30 seconds. There was a car in front of me. There were no speed limit signs on this short stretch, and I unthinkingly tried to match this car’s pace. Bad idea. I pulled into the neighborhood, and then heard the sirens behind me. This was it. Those lights were for me. I pulled onto the side of the road and waited, not really believing that this was really happening to me right now.

"The cop, a large muscular guy with a bad haircut, approached my car with his official flashlight and shined it in my face--completely unnecessary. Before he spoke, I quickly ran through the reactions I had imagined for such an occasion: hysterical crying, angrily disputing the accusation, a witty banter that would make me and the cop best buds, or a polite excuse that would get me off the hook. In the actual instance, however, I felt guilty more than anything, and that probably did not help my case at all. He asked me what the speed limit for the road was, and I truthfully answered that I didn’t know. He then of course let me know, and continued to inform me that he clocked me going 53 in a 40. I didn’t dispute this, thinking that it was certainly possible I could’ve been going that fast, but there was no way to be sure. It was late, I wasn’t looking at my speedometer; I was matching the speed of that other car... that other car. I mentally kicked myself and felt resentment.

"Despite the fact that the speeder in front of me got off easy, I did not think to mention this, and simply signed and accepted the ticket. What else could I do? It certainly seemed like that was the only solution at the time. Calmly accept the ticket and drive away. As I think about it now, I realize that I might’ve been able to explain my situation and maybe get off with a warning; after all, it was my first time. Thanks to my tendency to not think well on my feet, this will always remain a speculation, and I am now forced to take defensive driving  in order to ensure that this does not go on my record--fun stuff:P

"This was not a fun situation to be in, and as soon as I started driving away the tears began to flow. It was past midnight, I was tired, stressed, and now had the feeling that I was a criminal. I now use my cruise control more than ever, and cringe every time I see a police officer. That thing that changed? I used to look at the police cars and think that we were on the same team. I used to laugh at those who got pulled over. I used to think that my record would forever be spotless. Just goes to show that despite any plans or expectations we may have, nothing is certain, and movies are not an accurate representation of reality. Big surprise."

Thank you for your indulgence in my innocent rantings on paper.