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I am going to start this story by pretending that none of you knows the real life actual me.
The real life actual me is a rather intimidating person, right up until I start talking, or get distracted by something beautiful, or my favorite song comes on my earphones, and I start singing along and dancing like a fool, with a smile that has given me premature (honest) wrinkles. I have pretty defined muscles from working out every damn day, a full sleeve tattoo, a really cute hoop nose ring, and a blue Mohawk. I accentuate these things by wearing way too much eye make-up, cutting the sleeves off of every single band shirt i own (90% of my wardrobe), and pretty much living in combat boots. so yeah , I am pretty much a regulation bad-ass.
I also have a pretty big issue with almost all authority figures. In a magical twist of fate this did not transfer to police officers. For unknown reasons I actually respect them. It might have to do with the whole if something goes tragically wrong I am going to call them, so maybe I should not be a jackass to them when they catch me speeding. And they do. Often. I would like to preface this story by saying that every single officer I have ever been pulled over by has treated me with fairness and respect despite how easy it would be for them to assume the worst at first glance.
I think I will start this whimsical journey with my most recent interactions, with my local law enforcement.
About a month ago I got pulled over. I do not remember the circumstances of this interaction at all other than I was having a very bad day, I was out of my usual routine, judging from the date and time-stamp on the ticket I was either PMSing on on day one, either way it was not going to be rainbows and skittles. I know the officer pulled me over in a construction zone (although there were no workers present) and I was going about twenty five miles an hour over the speed limit. When I pulled the car over I rolled the window down, turned the car off,and put my hands on my steering wheel, just as I was taught. By the time he got to my window I was crying. I don't remember any of the rest of the interaction. I told him I was not trying to get out of the ticket, but I really could not stop. He was very kind and understanding. He did give me a ticket, bit for ten miles an hour over, which was half the fine of the one I deserved. He apologized to me, I apologized to him, he gave me my ticket, made sure I was OK to drive, and then sent me on my way. I ended up paying my fine and opting for traffic school so I won't get the points on my license. I still have 58 days to complete the school, so I am sure I will do it at the absolute last second.
Flash forward to yesterday morning. My lovely daughter Juliette, who is truly one of the bright spots of my existence, took Lance to school for me so I could sleep in. In return for her gift of sleep I let her take my car to work so she could try out some of that newly acquired freedom that comes with being 18 and having a drivers license. I figured if I needed to go anywhere I still had Baby (my motorcycle/therapist). Eventually I dragged my lazy buttocks out of bed and decided I would go for a therapy session. I got all dressed to go, Jeans, boots, motorcycle jacket, gloves, helmet. I take motorcycle safety very seriously, as I am the example my kids have, and I can suck it up and be a grown up when I have to. When I went to grab my key, I realized that my wallet was not there. Then I remembered leaving it in the car, you know, the car that was at that very moment parked at the Cracker Barrel 12 miles away. I went and checked to be sure I had enough gas to get there (and home if by some fluke the wallet wasn't where I thought It would be) and figured it would be fine. I could grab my wallet and head out in that direction. I don't usually start with a destination in mind, so it really didn't make much of a difference to me. So I got myself suited up, headphones in, listening to Green Day because that is always a good choice, and headed down the road. By the way it is completely illegal to use headphones while on a motorcycle. I break this law for knowledge and forethought every time I get on my bike. If I die I want one of my boys to be singing tome when I go.
I made it approximately six miles before I got pulled over. The cop stepped out from behind the bushes and pointed for me to pull over on the shoulder. I could not reach the off switch on the Bluetooth on my headphones without bringing attention to the fact that i was blatantly breaking the law, in addition to the speeding that i was being pulled over for. He walked up to me as I was pulling over, there was no way to do it smoothly. I hand motioned for him to give me a second, pulled off my gloves, undid the strap on my helmet, and when I pulled off the helmet i yanked the earbuds out with it. They were firmly seated, and made a lovely POP that made me want to cry, but I don't think he noticed. I then turned off the motorcycle and waited for my fate. The nice officer (he was a ginger and I kinda wanted to pinch his cheeks and call him Oppie) asked me if I knew how fast I was going. I had to admit that no sir, I do not know how fast I was going, although my motorcycle has a speedometer it sometimes acts as though it is possessed (although that is a technical impossibility as I have a large anti possession symbol right on the gas tank) and never gives me a true speed, for that I have to use my GPS and I didn't have it going because my phone was dying, so no sir, no Idea, but I assume it was faster than I should have been. He just kinda smiled and shook his head. He then asked me for my drivers license. No sir. Honest I do have one, but it is sitting under the seat of my car at the cracker barrel. Same for the registration. Yes sir it is my motorcycle, well no, it is my husbands, but really, this one is mine. Yes sir that is the plate for this motorcycle. same one it has always had, you can see the dents on it from the hit and run. No sir, that happened in Gainesville, I didn't file a report as there were no witnesses, at least none that stayed to see if I was OK. Thank you sir, I am just grateful to be alive. He then asked me if I knew my drivers license number. I laughed at him. I spelled out my name, gave him my date of birth, and what I thought might have been my drivers license number. He then took my information to the other car, as it was parked closer. Within two minutes the other officer came over to where I was still sitting on my motorcycle. He looked me in the eye, kinda laughed, and said "didn't I pull you over a couple months ago?" I looked him in the eye kinda wearily and asked "was I crying?". he said "yup" and I said "yup" and we both laughed. he went back to his car and pulled up the speeding ticket he gave me the month before. It had my drivers license number on it. I told him I had opted for the driving school, and he said "good that way you don't get the points". he said he was glad I was having a better day than I was the last time, and I thanked him for his concern. I told him about how my wallet was in my car, and my car was at the cracker barrel,and how my daughter took it to work and I forgot it was in there. hat is when he told me the most amazing magical thing I had heard in a very long time. " That was your daughter? I pulled her over this morning on her way to work" I looked him dead in the eye and said "you have got to be shitting me" he laughed so hard he teared up. I asked him if it was the same light blue van, with all the stickers, pretty little girl with long brown hair. Yeah, that sounds right. Then I remembered that she has an unusual name and asked him "Juliette?" and he was like yes, that was definitely it, but I only gave her a warning. She was just trying to get to work, and it was her first offense. At some point we agreed that a lead foot might run in the family, but we would slow down. I thanked him, because she is new, and that would have sucked. so we sat there on the side of the road talking about spouses, and kids, and motorcycles. turns out he rides too.
The other officer finally came back with my ticket. It was for not being able to show my license on request. It was a 138 dollar ticket, when he gave it to me he said to take my license to the courthouse and show it to them, and it would be reduced to ten dollars. They completely let me off of the speeding ticket, and the failing to show the title.
I then got back on my motorcycle and drove the remaining six miles to the cracker barrel. There was my minivan sitting in the spot where I often sit when I pick Juliette up from work. The doors were locked so I had to do in and get my key from the girl. There was a line, so I patiently waited in it. when I got to the front I asked if I could please have my key. She of course said no. then I asked if she was going to tell me about getting pulled over. The poor kids looked like she was going to faint. Then she laughed and said no, and asked the inevitable question, "how did you know?" to which I had to answer "the same cop pulled me over on my way here, but its OK because we are buddies from when he pulled me over last month". The woman she was working with damn near died.
The way Juliette tells it the woman she works with told the story to every single person she works with, and some of the regulars, and in doing so has cemented my title of regulation bad-ass, and given Juliette a kind of bad-ass in training status.