I always told my mother, "don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to."
Well mom, unless you want to know how many traffic tickets I've had, I suggest you quit reading now.
At Sherrod Ave., where M and I attend church, on Wednesday nights during the summer, we forgo adult Bible classes, and have ministers or others from the area lead a lesson. I guess it is a form of preaching, but a lot more laid back. I like that.
Last night, our speaker was Dr. Laws Rushing II, the President of Mars Hill Bible School. His assigned topic (and I am paraphrasing) was the meaningfulness of singing in worship. No, not a word was said in the centuries old acapella v. instrumental music debate, and I for one was grateful that was not a part of his presentation.
What was part of his presentation was talking about how music makes us feel. Not just hymns we might sing in worship, but secular songs as well. He used the example of Bruce Springsteen. He talked about a job he once had, driving a $100,000 Mercedes from Tampa to Nashville. Besides enjoying the sweet ride, he talked about the sound system in the car. He referenced The Boss and said the more energy Bruce put into the song, the faster he unknowingly started driving. That is until one of Georgia's finest State Troopers stopped him, leaving him with an opportunity to make a donation to the state of Georgia within the next 30 days.
I have mentioned more than once in this space how I am often looking for topics to write about, and when he mentioned getting pulled over in South Georgia, voila', the topic of this blog was in my head. In fact, I did not hear a word he said in the next five minutes, because I was already busy composing this blog in my head. You'll be happy to know I wrote the first two lines in my head while he was still talking. Sorry Laws, and sorry mom.
To be honest, not all of my tickets have been for speeding, though the vast majority were. Of the 15 or so moving violations I have received in Missouri, Arkansas, Florida, South Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama and Texas, there were two or three for making a right on red, at least one for passing on the shoulder, and one for running a red light. I'll explain later.
Despite this record of tickets, M still insists I am a good driver. When I ask her how she can say that, she replies, "because I can fall asleep when you are driving," Evidently, if she can sleep while I am driving, that is a stamp of approval.
I passed the Missouri written driving test a few days after my 16th birthday in June 1973 on my first attempt. I passed the driving test about 60 days later. So I have been driving for 52 years. That really sounds like a long time when i put it like that.
I got my first ticket a year or so later, beginning a life of total disregard of traffic rules. It was for speeding of course, something silly like 37 in a 25. The fine was minimal, but I was now on their radar, literally and figuratively.
The second ticket was much more spectacular, from which I also received a stern lecture from a Missouri State Trooper. It was January 1977. I was driving alone in my mother's car from Searcy to St. Louis. Somewhere in southern Missouri it started snowing on me, and it was sticking. I was on a two- lane stretch of US 67, so I was being pretty careful. It wasn't long before I reached Farmington, MO and four-lane. Now on a multi-lane divided highway, and despite the falling snow that was sticking to the roadway, my speed increased, then increased some more until I was pulled over somewhere in Jefferson County, MO, doing what the trooper said was "77 in a 55," and in the snow.
He was furious at me, maybe because he had to get out of his warm car, I don't know for sure. But after giving me my ticket, he lectured me for at least 10 minutes on how stupid I was driving the way I was, that I was an accident waiting to happen, and I was being so reckless I might get somebody else hurt. Well, he was right, so I slowed down, somewhat.
I've received two right turn on red tickets. One in the St. Louis suburb of Hazelwood, which also led to my first and only booking, and the second was in Naples, FL. Let's start with that one. It was a Saturday; I do remember that but have no idea what time of year. I lived in Naples from 1995-98, and it was in my last year there. I had been driving on southbound I-75 from North Naples to South Naples, a distance of five miles or so. I had exited the freeway, knowing full well there was a state trooper behind me. At the light off the exit ramp, I came to a full stop, looked both ways, with my blinker indicating my intention to make a right turn, which I did. It was textbook. As I made my right turn, the trooper behind me did as well, except as he did, he had turned his blue lights on and motioned for me to pull over.
When he got to my window, he asked if I knew why he pulled me over, I was polite, and clueless, and my answer "I have no idea," reflected that. He responded there were two intersections in Collier County (where Naples was), that you could not make a right on red. I had just found one of them. As punishment, the following Saturday I attended a four-hour safe driving class rather than pay a fine. Lesson learned.
The one is Hazlewood was in December of '87 or January '88. No snow was involved, but I remember it was cold. I was on Lindbergh Blvd. heading north and needed to make a right turn on Dunn. The light was red, and I made a rolling stop and then made the turn. Once again, I was nailed immediately because the sign clearly stated, no right on red. If only I had seen it. Most likely I saw it and chose to ignore it. So I was given a citation.
But here is where it really gets interesting. Well, interesting depending on your point of view. My court date was on the back of the ticket, which meant pay it by that date or go to traffic court and plea. I was very familiar with the routine. I let the ticket sit for a week or so and one morning went to the Hazlewood City Hall to pay it. They started processing it and the gal stopped. "Mr. Sullivan," she said, "I can't accept this, because your court date was yesterday." I wasn't sure what that meant and reiterated I just wanted to pay my fine. Well as it turns out, if you miss your court date, even for turning right on red, they issue a bench warrant in your name for your arrest. So I walked down the hall to the PD and turned myself in. They took my picture and fingerprinted me and didn't talk much. I was given another citation for failure to appear which had a "Must Appear" stamped on it. Bottom line, lesson learned, because failure to appear tickets cost a lot.
Just two more stories.
Last ticket I received was a speeding ticket in Memphis. I was heading west on I-240 near the airport when I was pulled over. I was told I was speeding, 67 in a 55. I had no idea it was a 55 zone. I think I asked the officer, "Seriously?" He still gave me a ticket. I posted my misfortune of Facebook and two of my Chi Sig brothers from Harding, both of whom live in Memphis, responded. John Redden said matter-of-factly, "First off, you got stopped because you pulled over. Should have kept going and let someone else pull over." Then I had a note from Perry Cain, who offered this beauty. "67? That's school zone speed."
Finally, one last remembrance of my long and glorious history of breaking various motor vehicle laws. This one again was in St. louis, actually the suburb of Overland where I grew up. Family friend Mike Bohan was riding with me. He had been in town for business and was heading back to Indianapolis. Anyway, we were approaching a school zone. I started to brake, and Mike said, "it's after nine, kids are already in school, don't worry about it." So I listened to Mike and didn't slow down. About a half-mile later I am pulled over as an Overland Policeman is writing me a ticket for going too fast in a school zone. I was fuming, and at the same time quietly amused. Mike was about 25 years older than me, but in many ways, we were a lot alike. After saying thank you for my gift, I put my left blinker on and pulled out into traffic. At this point, Mike started apologizing profusely for telling me not to slow down. He felt the ticket was his fault, and at this point offered to pay the fine. You know what? I let him.
I'm reasonably sure I'm not the only one with stories to tell about their driving days and brushes with the law. Hope you smiled a bit.
Be nice to each other and have a great week. Adios.
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