Yep, That Was Me With the Blue Lights A Flashing....
by DebraThomas
 Musings
Jan 29, 2012 | 2378 views |  0 comments | 28 28 recommendations | email to a friend | print | permalink
Evidently I have a knack for drawing out stories. Even if it is someone I don't know and they just happen to stop me for some reason, oh say, for a traffic violation, I feel the need to talk. And Talk, and talk. Not a rant, mind you, but just carry on a long, drawn out conversation as to why I am in the particular shape I am in causing the person to stop me. Now, I have all the respect in the world for the men and women in the line of duty, and I was very cordial and even thanked the gentleman for giving me the ticket, but it was the ordeal that was so well.....humorous.  Or so I thought. My husband, well, he didn't think it was quite so funny. So what do you think?

I went to a meeting in the small town I grew up in and visited with friends afterwards. We haven't seen each other since before Christmas and there was so much catching up to do. Well, Debo and I stayed behind and we visited for quite some time. It was great. Lots of laughter and just a great time of fellowship between two old classmates. Ok, so I move on and do the other things I have planned before I am on my way home for the evening.

As I am turning towards the road bringing me home, I have on my blinker and am at a stop, waiting to turn right. Ok, all is clear, so I proceed. About the time I start to turn, I see an Alabama State Trooper eye me and not in the good way. I get about 100 yards down the road home and here come the blue lights. I pull over in a church parking lot and sure enough, he comes behind me. Lights flashing. Ok, so here we are on a busy Sunday afternoon and all I am thinking, is well, wonder how many folks know me in this red Honda and are saying, well I wonder what she was doing.....speeding probably. Nope, its stranger than that.

As the gentleman is putting on his hat to exit his car, I roll down my driver side window and proceed to hold my arms out, towards the heavens, so that he can see, I am not armed, but I need to tell him something.  Now, I know from being around law enforcement people, (and watching my fair share of COPS on Saturday nights) that to try to exit the car is going to end up with me in trouble, so as he is getting out of the State car, I am telling him, I have to open the door because I have to tell him something. All this time, he is telling me that I am to stay in the car, and I hear him,  but I am talking at the same time, and finally get the point across that I will have to pitch him the keys to my car, because you're going to want my license and they are in my purse and my purse is in the trunk, so do you want the keys or do you want me to get the license? And while he is contemplating what the crazy woman is saying, I am shouting, "Now don't shoot me, cause I am coming back there and get my purse."  So you can imagine by now the crowds of people driving through the local Sonic so they can see what is going to unfold and the dogs across the street are barking, and of course its around 5 in the evening, so EVERYBODY is driving by.  Well, here I am and I get the purse and the license and I am in the middle of my long story about how I am coming from Moma's house and I am in the middle of taking the blankets and other things to her up at the Rehab Center, and go into the details about her falling on Christmas Day and then she broke her tailbone and so on.  The man, bless his heart, is standing there looking at me as if I am an alien, as in from outer space, because he is trying to get a word in edgewise and the whole time I am telling him, " well I guess you can tell I am telling the truth, about Moma and the Rehab Center cause,  I mean, who else would have older lady clothes and Depends in their trunk. "  Well, the nice State Trooper, just asked me for the insurance card and about the year of car and just the usual stuff. Then he said, do you know why I stopped you?

Now to a normal person, I guess that would have been the first thing in their mind, but to me, I was just not sure and told him I had no clue.  So he proceeded to explain to me that its against the law to drive with no seat belt, and I need to get it fixed. Ok. Should have let it go at that, but NOOOO   I have to talk. So I tell him that I have planned to get the car to the dealership for an oil change and will have them look at this but I don't want to be there all day and so I have to wait until my husband is off so he can take me and he has to work all of those weird shifts like you all do, and so it just hasn't been a good time.  (WHY AM I STILL TALKING??) 

So, I tell him that I wont lie to you fella, but I just couldn't get it on. See, and I bring him to the area of the car where he can see that yes, indeed my seat belt is in a knot.  Yep, a knot. Not where you can do anything about it, not where you can see it, but where it is inside the hole it goes in and wont come out, so unless you are a very small person and have legs that enable you to drive from the trunk, my seat belt is not going to work with you.

Even the State Trooper, a Mr. Webb, said he had never seen anything like that and that he has no idea who to take it to or where I am going to get it fixed, and he went back to his car and shut the door.

So I stand there, on the side of the church parking lot, tugging at this seat belt, and making a larger scene I am sure than he was really ready for, and proving that the seat belt would not budge. All of this time I was thinking, well since I told him about Moma, and he sees the seat belt in a knot, he wont write me a ticket.

No such luck. He comes back, and I must say, he is a very tall man. I felt shorter than normal next to him, and was still trying to work on the seat belt, then I noticed it was beginning to get dark.  Lights still going, but there was a small problem that I couldn't share with him, see I have a headlamp out too.

I don't drive at night, so I make sure I am home before the need to turn them on comes around. If its raining, forget it. And I wont drive it if there is a funeral procession I have to be in. Well, not yet anyway.

So he writes me the ticket. Then he proceeds to tell me that I need to get it on because what would happen to Moma if something like an accident was to hurt me ?  Nice man, and then the strangest thing happened.  He turned to leave, and I thanked him.  Thanked him for the ticket. Yep, right there on the side of the road, I thanked him and then I felt stupid for thanking him and told him. Mr. Webb smiled and got back out of the car and told me a story about how his grandmom had died not too long ago and I could see he just needed to talk.

Well, normally I would have more sympathetic, but as I said it was getting dark and all I could think of was, Please Mr. Policeman, go the other direction when you leave so you don't see my one headlight. Or, better yet, I will just sit here and if you act like you are waiting for me to leave, I will just start putting clothes and items in these donation boxes here. That way you can go ahead and do whatever you need and I wont get caught......hopefully.

But, he started up his Trooper Car and as he started to leave, I told him Thank you again, and he acknowledged me and said that maybe he saved my life when he stopped me. Maybe by me getting the ticket I will get the seat belt fixed and will be ok.  So with that, he started to dive off and I said aloud, yes, Mr. Webb, I will get it fixed, but maybe, just maybe, I saved your life today too.

See I think that God puts us where HE wants us at the time He wants us there. So yes, I got the ticket. Yes, I was at fault. But, in my long, drawn out story to the Policeman, then maybe, I saved his life by having him avoid something down the line.

Makes me think of the times when we say, "well if only I had left a few minutes earlier or later or taken another road, or

........."

Yeah, Mr. Webb, thank you. Thank you for saving my life, and I hope sir, I returned the favor.

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