I’ll never understand it, but I’ll always appreciate it.
Was late for a lunch date, so I was booking it down the highway.
I wasn’t conscious just HOW much I was booking it, until he told me – 85 in a 65.
And I didn’t have my license on me.
And I didn’t have my registration sticker on my license plate (still waiting for it in the mail, to be fair.)
After sitting long enough to finish a cigarette, he approached my window with a piece of paper.
Got a warning.
Again.
All this in a heavily-modified, loud, lowered Subaru Impreza WRX with a giant wing on the back and a sticker on the back from the YouTube channel ‘Mighty Car Mods’ that says ‘Chopped’ in Japanese meaning if you’re reading it, I beat you in a race.
If you use Google Translate on the lettering, its literal translation is ‘knife hand cut,’ but that’s a discussion for another time.
I also have several stickers that speak to my enjoyment of the import performance vehicle modification life, but again – another time.
No embellishment; this is not hyperbole: I have recieved no less than fifteen warnings in the last ten years.
I got one ticket, eleven years ago.
So the part that will make this even more unbelievable: I’ve received a warning in Rose Hll. I’ve received two warnings in Eastborough.
The part that isn’t comfortable to talk about: the only ticket I received? From a black officer.
Even then, I went to court, expecting the officer to not show.
He did.
Recognizing I had nothing to lose, I still fought it, and the judge appreciated my attempt so much, he dropped the charge and simply made me pay the court fees.
The rest of the officers have all looked just like me, and I look like, as the joke I’ve said on-stage, ‘a pair of Oakleys away from making people wonder where I was on January 6th.’
I just find it strange that I’ve been in triple digits before, and drove away with a warning.
The other side of that?
When I get pulled over, contrary to legal advice, I immediately own it.
‘You got me dead-to-rights. I have no defense for my behavior, sir.’
That’s the other part: it’s always ‘Yes sir,’ ‘No sir,’ and ‘I’m sorry, sir.’ I tender deference to the officer in every situation. If I’m carrying a firearm, I keep my hands on the wheel, and tell them where it is, and ask how they would like to proceed.
I was specifically told in the instance of the triple-digits that that was why he let me go with a warning, because it was dark and they never know what they’re getting into when they approach the car. He appreciated my candor, and making him feel immediately more comfortable with the stop.
Having worked in Public Safety for nearly ten years, I’ve had many conversations with officers specifically about how to handle firearms when pulled over, and was told that was the best way to make the officer feel immediately at ease.
I just don’t get the many others, except to tell the same joke I use every time I share this story and people ask:
‘How are you so lucky?’
‘Easy – I got great tits.’