As I believe I’ve mentioned, I recently purchased a new Volkswagen Rabbit.
And then I posted an entry about how it is almost, but not entirely, unlike the Rabbit I learned to drive a stick on. Namely, it zips. I didn’t even realize it was possible for a Volkswagen to GO 55 MPH until last week.
So I’m zipping along today, headed to rehearsal, and as I cross the Howard Frankland I notice what seems to be an inordinate number of vehicles getting ticketed by unmarked cars. I pay little attention; after a ’74 Volks Thing and a ’95 Toyota Tercel, I don’t speed; I mean, I used to, a long time ago, but then I stopped driving cars that permitted speeds greater than 50, so it became impossible.
Because we are headed to the theatre at the ungodly hour of 3 p.m., traffic is moving at a steady clip. I buzz along, letting people pass me as we traverse the interstate.
We are almost over the bridge when I see flashing lights in my rear view mirror. Now, it is so out of the question that I have done anything, I assume the officer is merely attempting to get to another car and I am in the way, so I pull over to let him pass.
He does not pass. He, in fact, pulls over behind me.
The lovely young man (what, they hire preschoolers now for FHP? I could have babysat this guy!) informs me that not only was I speeding, I changed lanes three times without signaling.
Such a good stage manager am I that I start texting the cast and crew to be careful of the speed trap while Officer Doogie goes back to his car to write out a ticket that I am certain will rival my August mortgage payment.
Derek, my passenger, turns to me when the officer walks away and says “I think he’s gay,” to which I respond “well, flirt a little, would you? Help me out here!”
Officer Doogie cut me a break, though, and only ticketed me for two failures to properly signal. A mere $123.50. I even- and I’m embarassed to admit this- show him the lane change feature on my blinker as I explain that I must not quite have the hang of it (what I thought this would accomplish, I have no earthly idea). He smiles and says “that seems like a great feature.” What he doesn’t say but I swear to god I can hear him thinking is “maybe you should try using it”.
So, yeah, it could have been better, but it could have been worse, but here’s what I kept thinking:
How much must it suck to go to school, probably get a degree in criminology, attend and pass a police academy, and get sent on speed trap expeditions? I mean, here’s Officer Doogie, clearly some sort of child prodigy to have graduated high school and the academy by age 14, and he probably had visions of being the next Matlock (or some TV character who’s actually a police officer, I don’t know, I don’t have TV) and instead he’s Barney Fife, ticketing people for failure to signal.
But hey, me? I’ve clearly set a record. I’m the first person to speed in a Volkswagen Rabbit.