Monday, December 24, 2007
Drove my Chevy to the Levy
inspired by Val
It's funny how all of your feminist ideals get thrown right out the window when staring into the eyes of a great big policeman.
Especially when you're 16. Especially when you have just gotten your license a few weeks prior.
There I was, newly licensed, in my brother's "kelly green" '69 Camaro. I had four other girls in the car with me. For those of you who know Los Angeles, you will recognize the exact off-ramp of the 405 Freeway I'm about to describe. The exit is Mulholland. As you pull off the freeway, there are a couple of lanes...you can go left from the left and right from the right lane...makes sense, right?
Sitting in the left lane with my four friends all screaming different things at me..."go left, no, go right, no left, no right"...I finally had to choose. Unfortunately, the last thing I heard was "GO RIGHT!"...and so, I did.
OOOPS! I was in the LEFT turn lane.
And there it was. The thing we fear most. The thing a brand new 16 year old driver fears most. Those lights, the siren. I knew I was "dead".
I pulled over, in my brother's kelly green Camaro. The Camaro that, in this year of 1971, had a huge peace sign in the back window. Not to mention the crap all over the car...a rolling trash can as it were.
The nice, rather large policeman came over to my car, motioning to roll down the window. I began to roll it down, and then it happened.
I burst into tears. Uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop.
The great big policeman asked me a few questions. I answered through my tears. My girlfriends were as still as statues. And then the miracle happened.
He asked me to promise I would never do it again. Hell yeah officer
Of course it was more like “y-y-y-es officer”.
“O.K.” he so generously said. “Then go, and don’t ever do anything like this again”.
And you know what? I never did. Until I was 34, and pregnant with my youngest. I was nabbed doing 40 in a 30 zone. And hormonal. And figured, hey those tears worked oh so many years ago, why not now, right?
So, bring on the tears! Only, this guy? Wasn’t buyin’.
Crap…out came the ticket book…I was doomed to “comedy” traffic school. (which, by the way…NOT funny)
I have never sped down that street again.
Somehow, the picture of a flashing 52 year old with tears streaming down her face, just isn't quite the same as a cute, perky, scared out of her wits 16 year old.
Maybe I'll soon be able to play the "poor old senior" card.
Hey, you do what you can.