I got pulled over for speeding last
night! There I was, driving home through the
lovely soft fog, less than a dozen blocks from
home, when I look up in my rearview mirror, and
see that the car that has come up behind me is,
in fact, a police car. No worries, I thought,
I?m only going 51. I will just hit the coast
button on cruise control and drop a couple of
miles per hour. I figured the cop was left over
from what looked like a pretty horrific accident
on this same hill that I had bypassed just a
half hour earlier. At that time, cops had
blocked the road, there were ambulances and fire
engines, and it just looked generally nasty.
Coming back, I had just noticed that the fire
engines were still here, though the road was
unblocked. He was probably just leaving. No way
he was after me. So I hit the decel button, and
the speedometer slid from 51 back to 50, and the
cop turned on his lights behind me! The funniest
thing was how calm I was. ?Well I?ll be darned,?
I said to myself. I have never had a ticket
before. I was pulled over by a cop once on the
Sand Point Naval Station, but that did not count
because it was not real police. I was pulled
over once by real police about a decade ago when
I had my old Celica, whose lights only worked on
high-beam. When I spent the entire light cycle
high-beaming the officer in the opposite
left-turn lane, I knew I was in trouble. But I
was able to get out of it by lying and saying
the lights had just recently broke and I was
planning on getting into the shop very soon. A
total, total lie. So I have never had a speeding
ticket, and had no idea what to expect. Where is
the voice of speeding ticketed wisdom (hi Dad!)
when you need it? I pulled over promptly and
safely, hopefully impressing the officer with my
attention to not putting him in a dangerous
parking position. All these questions that I had
never thought about before were suddenly very
important. Do I leave the engine running? I put
it in park and put on the emergency brake, that
was an easy choice. I also elected to turn off
the lights. Was that correct, or should I have
left them on? Or at least the parking lights? I
knew enough to leave my seatbelt on, but all
these other details suddenly seemed crucial.
Should I go to the glove compartment to get my
insurance and registration stuff? Or would that
make me look like someone who gets pulled over
all the time? Or would it look like I was going

for a gun and freak out the cop? Or would it
look like I was hiding something and make the
cop suspicious? Sitting there waiting was
probably the most anxious part of the whole
episode. He took forever. Running my plates, I
assume. ?Ah, the Ford Taurus. A dangerous car
that only a dangerous man would drive. And a
piece-of-crap mountain bike strapped to the
back. Clearly, keeping his escape options open.
A dodgy type.? I rolled down my window as he
walked up and shone his light on my face. ?You
were driving a little fast, there.? ?Mmm?? I
offered, helpfully. ?I clocked you at 51, and
then followed you and you were going 51. The
speed limit is 40. You live around here?? His
little radio interrupted, and I waited
respectfully while it talked (even electronics
outranked me in this situation) and he
responded, ?Copy.? ?This is really embarrassing,
because yes, I do live right over there,? I
said, helpfully pointing through the fog, over
the hill, across Echo Lake to my house, ?and the
funny thing is, if you would have asked me what
the speed limit here was, I would have told you
it was 45. I honestly had no idea.? This,
amazingly, was the truth. At that time, I was
honestly thinking the speed limit was 45. I am a
4 mph over the speed limit kind of guy. I would
never have set my cruise control for 11 mph
over. So okay, I thought. If I was speeding, I
am going to get a ticket and I guess I am okay
with that. It happens and it is not that big a
deal. But let?s at least try to get the ticket
from my perspective, where I was only going 6
mph over what I believed was the speed limit,
rather than his version, which at eleven, sounds
pretty bad. ?Yeah, well it?s 45 up north, and 45
for a ways down south there, but it?s 40 through
Shoreline. You got a good license? Sober
tonight?? Why, oh, why had I chosen today to
switch to bourbon-scented aftershave? He took my
license. ?You?ve got good insurance?? Ahhh... he
was not a real cop after all, I realized with a
sigh of relief. It was all going to turn out to
be a hidden-camera Geico commercial. I assured
him I did, and asked him if he wanted to see it,
gratuitously working in that I had never even
had a ticket. ?No, I?ll trust you.? That seemed
like a really good sign. Then he disappeared
with my license for a while, came back, and
handed it to me, ?keep your speed down, okay??
?You bet, thank you officer. Thank you very
much.? And that was it. He drove off. I was so
happy, I wanted to shout as I drove away.
Totally busted, but totally let off scot-free,
my perfect driving record remaining intact.
Another in a series of adventures that might
have affected my life in some way, but through
good fortune ended up leaving me none the wiser.