Miss CP is a little down this evening. She was on her way to pick up her late-to-work son and got annoyed, as all the other cars were going slower than a slug in a school zone. So naturally she did the obvious: she went around a few of these slowpokes, and then tucked her car into the left turn lane at the light. For twenty-three grueling seconds she stared into the rear-view, hoping hoping hoping the guy on the motorcycle behind her was in a good mood. Then the light changed and bingo! She learned through American Motorcycle Cop Language that she was to pull over.
Sigh. Some day this will make wonderful material for a novel.
Miss CP sat there, trying to work up tears while the cop went back to his bike and checked to see if she was an escaped ax murderer. There were a few anxious moments as she rifled through the glove box searching for the registration and insurance card. The cop, who looked younger than my youngest son, looked from my awful driver’s license photo to me and back again. He didn’t even say you don’t look a day over 40!
Motorcycle cop thought he was doing Miss CP a humongous favor by only giving her one ticket instead of the other 43 violations he could name. He looked pretty proud of himself as he told the poor old decrepit lady about a fine reduction program they have for good drivers. How could he possibly think Miss CP is a good driver? Didn’t she just prove to him and the entire town that she’s the village idiot?
But Miss Crankypants understands that back-talk will get you locked up, so she refrained from calling him a whippersnapper or pointing out that his nose hair needed trimming. No, she calmly took the pink ticket of shame and forgot to say this is her FIRST EVER TICKET in 45 years of driving. Forty-five years!
Why, she was driving waaay back when this guy was making incessant motorcycle noises while he sat on the potty. But no worries. The story Miss Crankypants writes about a certain motorcycle cop is sure to be a bestseller. Unless she back-talks the judge and he gives her hard time.