Suburban Goddess

“License and insurance, please ma’am.”

“Yes sir.” I hand him my license and realize with a sense of complete dread that I’ve left my new insurance card on the desk at home. I hand him the expired one and pray he’s in a good mood. He’s not.

“Your insurance has expired. Do you have a current card?”

“Yes, sir, but it hasn’t made it to my truck yet.” Please don’t tow me, please don’t tow me. Alex cooed in her carseat, and the officer took pity on me.

“All right, I’m going to write you the citation, but you can call the courthouse and fax them a current copy.”

“Thank you so much, sir. I promise I’ll put it in my glove box as soon as I get home.” I offered him an apologetic smile, but he did not respond. I’m sure he’s heard the excuse a million times before.

Silence as he writes the ticket. Slightly uncomfortable. Finally he mumbles out of the side of his lips.

“Do you know why I pulled you over, Ms. MacLaughlin?”

“Yes sir.”

“You were going 53 in a 35.”

“Would you believe I was dyslexic?” I offered with another smile.

The look on his face told me he obviously did not. Without another word, he handed me the ticket and walked back to his motorcycle, ready to nail the next unsuspecting speeder. I hope, for their sake, that they don’t give that officer any attitude.

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