What Did I Do To Deserve This?

You know that feeling you get when you're accused of something you didn't do? You start out being confused about how you became mistakenly mixed up in the trouble in the first place. Then, you become angry because you know you're innocent even though others presume you're guilty. Frustration sets in soon afterwards as the situation appears hopelessly set against you. Add a fear of impending doom and one quickly becomes panic-stricken and anxious to absolve oneself of any wrongdoing. Well, that's the emotion I've felt this week. Twice.

For the second day in a row I've been stopped and pulled over by police officers while driving. I didn't do anything wrong on either occassion, but those feelings rushed over me just the same. I guess I've been pulled over enough times to know that officers usually possess a good claim for having interrupted your travel. When an officer stops you he has his reasons. That means you can usually expect a traffic citation. I've also collected enough tickets now to realize that whether or not I do something to deserve an officer's attention, I seldom expected to receive it. So, when I get noticed it suprises me. We're talking the blindsided, lump in the throat, caught off-guard, hard to swallow what's happening kind of surprise. This was the predicament I found myself in not once but twice this week. Not knowing why I was being stopped, but knowing that I couldn't possibly have done anything wrong caused that feeling to surge up within me.

Yesterday, it occurred just as I was leaving Frank Parra's service department in Irving where I had a recall item replaced. (Thanks for the new catalytic converter, Frankie.) As I approached the service road I had to halt short of the stop sign to allow an oncoming car carrier to complete its turn in front of me and through my lane from off the service road. After the car carrier passed me, I moved forward toward the intersection and quickly turned right into the available lane of the service road. Immediately, a motorcycle officer who was parked on the side of the road about fifteen yards away motioned for me to pull over as I passed him. He walked over, met me at my vehicle and then proceeded to question me as to why I hadn't come to a complete stop at the intersection.

If I had let that feeling overwhelm me at the time, I might now be looking at two slips of a triplicate paper form with my name, vehicle model and the words "appear in court" written on it. The third slip would be on its way to a nearby government office. Instead, I avoided those papers altogether by simply answering the officer's questions bluntly and truthfully. I told him I had stopped. I told him I waited for the car carrier to pass and then I proceeded from that stop. Well, he couldn't argue with that because his line of sight didn't afford him a view in front of the stop sign where I had stopped. I guess what I had told him made enough sense and so he just left it at that. Thankfully, I didn't receive a ticket which I didn't deserve in the first place.

Today, I found myself in a police officer's sight again as I drove to the car wash to spiffy up the Jeep. I figured a new catalytic converter deserved a clean exterior so I headed up to the local car wash. Just two turns away from pulling into the parking lot I passed an officer in a police cruiser on the service road near my house. I looked at him and he looked at me. Instictively, I then checked my speedomter. The indicator hovered just below 40 mph. I looked up and saw a sign that read 40 mph. I was cool. Or so I thought.

The next thing I know I've rounded a corner at an intersection only to find the officer manuvering around another car to pull in behind me. The car wash is just ahead. I pull into the parking lot and steer towards an open bay as red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror. I stop, get out of the Jeep and look at the officer as he exits his vehicle. I know that one is supposed to be polite and courteous in this situation, but I couldn't help myself from giving the officer an incredulous stare as he approached me. This was not happening again. I had done nothing wrong.

He made the obligatory license and insurance request. I handed over my ID, remained silent and continued staring. He directed me over to the side of my Jeep. Still, I didn't say anything but my face said plenty. He looked at my information and gave the once over to my stickers on the front windshield. Finally, I boldly asked him if there was something I could do for him. He started to speak, then checked my stickers once more before peering over at my license plate. Looking bewildered, he handed back my cards and said that he must have been mistaken because he could have sworn that one of my stickers was outdated. And with that he just turned around and left, leaving me with a smug look on my face. I had overcome the odds once again.

I just hope the saying isn't true that the third time's the charm.