This morning as I headed out to visit Truett in GainesvilleI became bothered by my ignorance of how to take photos using Instagram and then how to upload them to Facebook. So as I drove through Alachua, I made a split decision to turn right and drive to Gainesville on the country roads, which would ultimately put me on Newberry Road and then I could drive toward the mall to the Verizon store, where my buddy, Cal, would talk me through my delimma.
The road I was traveling on is actually NW 139th Street. A lovely road. Farms, cows, and hills. Lots of hills. I turned on XM radio and listened to Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, all the oldies. Breathing in and out, I was calming myself down. Up the hill. Down the hill. Whee! That was fun. Forty-five mph, fifty-five mph. Up the hill. Down the hill. Whee! Forty-five mph. Blind driveways. Over the bridge. Down the hill. Clipping right along as I escaped in my music.
Over the hill. Uh, oh! That's when I saw an Alachua County Deputy half-way down the hill. Of course I did what any red-blooded woman would do. I mashed the brakes, hoping I was going the right mph as I passed him. Then I looked in my rear view mirror and realized I was caught. I whipped off to the side of my favorite farm and wondered if I would be in a ditch or culvert. Then a sickening feeling came over me and I had butterflies in my stomach.
This young cute officer walked up to my car and stood at an angle to my driver's side window. "Are you in a hurry?" the officer asked. "Not really," I answered. "Do you know how fast you were driving?" he questioned. "No, sir. To be honest, I was lost in my music. How fast was I going?" I answered. "Sixty miles per hour in a forty-five speed zone."
"NO WAY," I exclaimed. "I AM SO SORRY!" Then he asked me if I had ever been stopped for speeding before. I told him once in 1981 when I got my buick . . . and that it was really fast. I didn't even make it out of Fort White.
Of course the officer wanted to run my driver's license through the system, so I handed it over. Then I wondered if maybe I should break down in uncontrollable tears when he returned. I could explain about Truett and Mom and Clay and Roger and the puppies because I have a full plate. Plus, I couldn't afford a ticket right now, with money being so tight.
While the officer checked my license, I decided I had a blog to write, so I grabbed my camera to take a photograph. "What if he sees me?" I wondered. "What if it is against the law to photograph an officer. What the heck. I'll just explain I'm ignorant...just like with instagram." So I snapped a picture and waited for him to return.
The officer came back to the car, and handed me my license. "Where are you going?" he asked. "To see my husband in a nursing home," I answered. (Should I put on my sad face now?) Naw! Well, since it had been twenty-two years since my one and only other speeding ticket, this young officer just gave me a warning. Whew! Thank you, God!
As he was about to leave I told him I had a story to tell him about my mama. So I told it. My almost ninety-year old mother got stopped for speeding on this very road years ago. She asked the officer why he wasn't out catching people on Hwy. 441 or the interstate. That officer told Mom, "Well, I caught you, didn't I? Enough said. I reminded the officer who pulled me over that at least fifty cars passed us on this country road and I knew they were driving the limit. But, in the end, I wasn't embarrased like I thought I would be.
Finally, I ended up at Verizon, Cal updated Facebook for me, and I told him the whole story about my split decision.
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