confession #68...

I said I was going to confess my speeding “violation” last Sunday (Yes. I’m a Violator.)—so here goes:

First: I haven’t been stopped by a policeman, deputy or highway patrol in years. (During these 48 years I’ve had a driver’s license? I’ve had two tickets I had to pay…four warnings…a few minor accidents caused by me—I can think of seven—not all with another vehicle…some I simply tore up my own car—or MSH’s…oops—and I’m naïve enough to think that ain’t bad!). In fact, the last time I was pulled over was eight years ago and only seconds after I pulled out onto the highway. I was less than two miles from our home. I’m referring to the highway to Interstate 20. The highway that begins My Journey to TLC’s Casa or anywhere else I go south, north or east. West? That’s a different road. On that day, I’d known for NINE YEARS what the speed limit was at the exact place I was being pulled over. The woman highway patrol person that stopped me (Why do women highway patrolpeeps dislike little ol’ moi?) said I was going 10 miles over the speed limit.

TRUTH: I will never, EVER, EVER argue with a highway patrolperson, police officer of Sheriff’s Deputy. Ever. Not about something I’ve allegedly done. (I can’t promise I wouldn’t defend one of our children or grandchildren or a relative or dear friend if they were being bullied or mistreated. I pray I’m never in that kind of situation.) I’m not going to be rude. First of all, I don’t believe there’d be much of a reason to argue. There's a process for which we can contest tickets. And I’m a Rule Follower. Have been since the day I was born. So if I am accused of breaking a rule? I’m confident enough in myself to tell you it’d be a very minor break and I'll accept responsibility for my actions. That incident? I apologized and told her if she showed I was going 10 miles over the limit I had not meant to and I wouldn’t do it again. She gave me a warning. (I think she clocked someone near me. I didn’t tell her that. Nope. Not wise. Just sayin' I'm pretty sure that's what occurred. More truth according to ELC.)

Further background: They are doing major construction on this dadgum problem highway. From I-20 south for sixty miles. This highway has become hugely dangerous in the past ten-ish years. Many people have been killed. It’s being widened. As it should be. But the work going on is, of course, VERY ANNOYING. Especially to those of us who must travel the highway daily. The speed limits all along the way are confusing. There are orange signs that are put up by the construction companies and that are, apparently, only “suggestions.” (This was confirmed by the highway patrol woman who stopped me Sunday.) The white Highway Department speed limit signs change every few miles. It’s hard to remember what the speed is supposed to be—especially when 80% of the people in front of or behind you are going anywhere from 10-20 miles over said limit.

Fast forward to last Sunday: I was driving my car to meet TLC at a Target where we exchange her chilluns. My Sweet Hubby (MSH) was in the front passenger seat. (I have a small-ish car.) Little Leighton (aka LL aka Biscuit) was in her carseat in the back. Behind MSH. As I got close to the interstate, I passed a highway patrolperson who had been pulled over on the opposite side of the road, heading south. I was going north. I cringed when said vehicle pulled away from the shoulder, turned their lights on and turned into my lane—right behind me. I was shocked. Truly shocked. And it’s the worst feeling. Ever.

ELC to MSH: I could NOT have been speeding. I saw a sign that said 65. I was maybe going 68. (Most of us have always heard a highway patrolperson will give you a few miles over—approximately 10% of the speed limit. So I felt very safe at 68.)

MSH in a quiet voice—as if the lady could hear him: “I knew you were going to get stopped. I’ve been telling you you’re not paying attention to all of those signs.”

SIGH.

She was a beautiful young woman. (I couldn’t help but think about her Mom and/or family wishing she was in any kind of profession other than this one.) And kind. She asked for my license and proof of insurance. She asked me where we were going. I told her. She then said I was going 68 in a 60. That she’d give me a Warning—because she knows all of that construction makes the speed limit confusing. But FIRMLY stated I was to make sure not to go over the speed limit in the future. She walked back to her car and I looked back at Biscuit.

ELC: Biscuit, I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have been driving so fast. I’m sorry. I’ll do better now and always. Are you okay?

LL: Yes, Grammy, I’m okay! Remember when Little Critter’s Daddy got stopped for speeding? This is like that!

Sheesh. Wasn’t wanting a “teaching opportunity” to end our great visit—but you take them when you get them. With an attitude of humility, patience and honesty.

As I shared in my last post, MSH used this as a chance to lecture me NON-STOP for a couple of days. I deserved it. So I did my best to be understanding about his worries.

Now it’s a beautiful, clear, sunny (will be a tidbit hottish) Saturday in North Central Texas. I’ve gotten a lot of rat-killin’ done and a healthy lunch eaten. I have a few more chores to get accomplished before MSH and I go pick Our Precious Frien Emily up for an early dinner in Granbury.

I’m sending each of Y’all a BIG HUG—wherever in this World you are! Be safe. Go the speed limit (but not too far under—that’s annoying, don’tchaknow…). Look for ways to be a GOOD example for any and all children in your midst. BE HAPPY! Be safe. BE KIND.

smooch!

ELC