Oh, my precious blog. It’s been WAY too long. Blast that dial up connection at my brother’s. Well, I’m BAAAACK. Where shall I start?
Early this morning when I left the mitten state of Michigan, I decided, very consciously, that I wanted to get back to D.C. very quickly and it was worth the chance to drive 90 to get home, even if I got a ticket. I had a vision that no cop could give me a ticket with two cute dogs in the car. So, 90 it was – all the way through Michigan into Ohio and right on to the Ohio Turnpike. Lucky for me I was really only doing 85 when I flew over the hill right by the cop.
Now, before I unfold this drama for you, let me say that Velvet has “never” gotten a ticket after being pulled over. Somehow, it just never happens that I get the dreaded ticket, except for that one time I didn’t try very hard up near Niagara Falls. And I have to give that dude credit, it was cold and I would have been pissed too if I had to get out of my toasty cruiser for some stupid girl speeding in the snow. So, I probably would have given me a ticket too.
I got pulled over in Baltimore about four years ago and played “stupid girl new to town” and got out of it. Nevermind that “new to town” came from that fact that I drove around with Connecticut plates for 7 years after I actually left that state. Then last year I was pulled over with Penny when we were driving to go get Thora from Georgia. Actually, Penny was driving and we were falling asleep. Cop says, “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Penny said, “No sir.” Cop says, (classic line coming:) “Because you almost hit me.” Hey man, we drove all night. We were tired. Anyway, he asked what we were doing driving to Georgia with (again) Connecticut plates and Maryland Driver’s Licenses and I went into some tantrum about my ex and our dog running away and me having to rescue her and he figured that was such a ridiculous story that who the hell could have made it up. He let us go.
Ok, so back to this morning on the Ohio Turnpike. I get pulled over. He comes over to the passenger side, and who else but SuperDogs (loves of my life) jump to the window to greet him. It goes like this:
Cop: “Will they bite?”
Velvet: “Only if I get a really expensive ticket.”
Cop: (laughs as he pets Sammy’s head.) “Have you ever been pulled over on the Ohio Turnpike before?”
Velvet: “No. Is this where you tell me I get hauled downtown?”
Cop: (laughing again) “No no. Heading back to D.C. tonight?”
Cop: “Where were you?”
Velvet: “Michigan. My brother and his wife had a baby so I went to visit.”
Cop: “That’s nice. Why didn’t you fly?”
Velvet: “Because the doggies don’t have any grass to run on in D.C. and I felt guilty for that, so I brought them so they could have some fun.”
Cop: “That’s great. Well, as long as you check out that you haven’t been pulled over in Ohio before, I will let you off with a warning.”
And there you have it ladies and gents. I don’t know my secrets, it’s like when I go somewhere and I get Doris Day/superstar/rockstar parking right in front. I can’t explain it. I probably shouldn’t talk about it, but I’ve been lucky. I owe it today to SuperDogs though.
It’s my feeling that if you at least try to talk to the cop and somehow bring something personal into it, they will give you a break. Of course it depends on the cop and how cute he may think I am, but I still think that giving up a little personal information can’t hurt. Sometimes just saying, “I’m sorry, I know I messed up, but I was daydreaming” is all it takes.
On to the closure of old news: MotorcycleInstructor. This is the last of him you will hear, because it’s the end, the finale, the closure.
I had this vision while driving to Michigan that he was going to call and want to “talk.” And I was going to let him come over to talk, even buzz him into my building, but then when he was banging on my door and calling my cell asking why I wasn’t answering, I was going to say, “Huh. I don’t hear you. Could that be because I’M IN MICHIGAN??” It was funny in my head. Would have been funnier in person. But that was not to be. Instead, he left me a somewhat desperate sounding voicemail that he needed to “explain.” Fine. I’m willing to hear it.
Willing. But not ready. He’s got a 13 year old son he’s been freaking harboring like Osama Bin Ladin at his house because he didn’t know how I would react. I told him he could have at least given me the benefit of the doubt. He said that he didn’t know what to do, and realized that I was on to something being not quite right. Duh, you think? Is this not the MOST ridiculous ending to this story? I can’t even believe how lame this was. I was hoping for something better. I really wish I could make a soundcard of his voicemail and post it on here. You would have thought someone died.
I’ve spent the last week lining up some men from Yahoo. I’m going to start sinking my teeth into these guys and see where it takes me. I shall be back daily, with news.