Retirement blues, books read, musings, family, secrets, lists, etc.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A Ticket to Nowhere
I got a speeding ticket while on an errand of devotion, if you please, and if that were not enough, the ticket was totally undeserved. I know what you'd say. You'd say that everyone says that, but in my case it's true.
I was driving east off of I-15 concerned that I not be late for the funeral of my friend, Robert Matthews. He was a very kindly, beloved, long-lived man, so of course he had lots of friends and I wanted to visit with his widow, Shirley, for a minute, and to see him one last time.
In the rear-view, I see the officer, blue and red lights ablaze, urgently gesturing for me to pull over. I comply. I think for certain I've run a stop sign because there was nothing else it could possibly be. Ha!
"Do you know the speed limit along here?" he asks.
"I don't know. About forty maybe?" I say.
"It's twenty-five and you were going fifty." The sounding clunk was my heart sinking. The squishy sound was my eyes bulging. I am incredulous.
The street is right off I-15 and is a real boulevard. Five lanes maybe or at least three really wide ones. A main drag. I sit in silence doing all things right yet still get a ticket for "only" ten over the speed limit. Ninety dollars for the ticket and sixty for the online driving class. No wonder Lindon City can afford the big-deal office building.
I had to drive to Lindon to pay the ticket and get the driving class going so it doesn't show up and clobber my insurance rates. While driving down there, I build a full head of steam about what I'm going to tell them about their little money-making speed trap and how I hope their city dies on the vine from people avoiding driving through it at all costs.
When I get down there, however, everyone is so darn nice. Even when I complain that it was a speed trap, the woman merely says nicely "I'm sorry."
I pursued it. "That's a main road to State Street from the Interstate. Twenty-five is ridiculous."
"Well," she says, still sweetly and without a note of sarcasm, "there are schools and rest homes all alone there."
"They should teach their children to stay out of the road," I respond lamely, making a stupid attempt at a joke. She laughed.
The thing that really made me mad on top of everything else was my parting shot: "The officer was really nice when he gave me the ticket, though, and gave great directions to the funeral address."
Retired teacher, MaEd Counseling, Married, two adult sons, one fabulous daughter-in-law, two granddaughters. Trying like crazy to make something of retirement. I love getting up at 9AM and love hanging out wherever and whenever I choose, but I'm trying to add meaning. Meaning. Isn't that what we're all after?