Sunday, February 3, 2013

A Bit of the Scofflaw Blood Flows Through Val's Veins

On my way home from town shortly before noon, I let the Tahoe loose down the hill approaching the boundary of the city limits. A police car screeched to a stop from a side road, barely avoiding a broadside accident, or as some would probably term it, a good T-boning from me.

Let the record show that I was going approximately five miles over the speed limit. Hey! Those laws are made for people who don't know how to control their large SUVs. Besides, Genius said that his teacher told him on a robot team trip that police have a saying, "Nine, you're fine, ten, you're mine." Where she got her insider information, I don't know. It was so kind of her to enlighten beginning drivers on this corollary to the rules of the road.

The road from whence the patrol car nearly came flying has a twenty mph speed limit. I know that for a fact, Jack. I cut through there to go from town to the bowling alley. It runs past an elementary school. And those signs do NOT say when school is in session and children are present. Twenty mph is the speed limit all the livelong day. 24/7/365.

The policeman and I glanced at each other. Furitively. Like college acquaintances encountering each other in an adult bookstore on the edge of town. Not that I would know anything about that. We nodded. And went on about our business. I slowed down, and he tore out of there like a ninth-grade boy on his way to the cafeteria at the first clang of the lunch bell. Without lights and sirens.

Rules. Made to be broken. By Val and the law.

7 comments:

  1. I wonder what other lines Val crosses, all willy-nilly?

    Does she ever step on rungs past the label that says on the ladder, "Do not step on this rung or go beyond it"?

    Does she ever listen to music loud enough to harm her hearing?

    Does she ever double dip?

    Does she ever hold onto a wonderful story, refusing to send it off, due to some selff perception that is all askew?

    I think that copper needs to circle back and check out Val.

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  2. You are a loose cannon!

    Why does just seeing a cop car make you think you are doing something that will land you in jail?

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  3. I fought the law and the law won!

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  4. Sioux,
    I dare to defy the "rinse, lather, repeat" directions on my shampoo! I apply ointments to broken skin. I sometimes use cleaning products without proper ventilation. I insert Q-Tips into my ears. Next time I buy a pillow, I'm planning to remove the tag.

    Yes, I have held back stories. The wonderfulness part is debatable.

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    joeh,
    Um. That would be the memories of my five prior stops for speeding, sir. In four different counties. Resulting in three tickets. Oh, then there was the stop for driving with no tail lights, which I THOUGHT was for speeding, because I didn't have any dash lights, thus no speedometer, although I WAS clueless about the tail lights.

    Val has paid her debt to society, and does not want the book thrown at her.

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  5. Love the last line... Rules. Made to be broken. By Val and the law. Funny post, as always.

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  6. Just think, you could have conducted a citizen's arrest. On second thought, don't bother thinking about it.

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  7. Mrs.,
    The law and I stand 3-3. Three warnings, and three cases of entrapment where I paid a ticket to forget the whole thing.

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    Lynn,
    He was doing no harm, racing past the school on a Sunday morning. I was conserving gasoline by coasting down the hill, not wearing away the metal on my brakes. Victimless crimes, ripe for the committing.

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    Linda,
    I'm no Charlie's Angel. Or much of an angel at all, really. And now that I am thinking about it against your rule...arresting is not so simple. It's not like marrying, where you can say, "I marry you. I marry you. I marry you." Worked for Nicole Kidman and Jude Law in and on Cold Mountain. But I think it might have raised the eyebrows of my Backroads copper if I jumped out and shouted, "I arrest you. I arrest you. I arrest you." No need to have him make me an example and give me something to cry due process about.

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