A Surprising Brush with the Law

My adult son Paul was recently ticketed for not coming to a complete halt at a stop sign. Hearing this, my motherly instincts immediately leapt into action—even though he’s grown, and it was hardly armed robbery. “Pay attention,” I warned him. “They’re everywhere these days. You should be vigilant.”

A week later, on a late Sunday afternoon, I was tootling along a country road in Redding, CT. The stretch was familiar. Rural, lots of green fields with old white churches and weathered colonials dotted here and there.

So, imagine my surprise when a swirl of blue and red strobes suddenly lit up my rearview mirror. A cop was behind me, needing to pass. I slowed down so he could maneuver, but he stayed where he was, on my tail. “Go, already,” I kept muttering as I slowed even more to let him by.

That’s when it hit me. He wasn’t trying to pass. He was pulling me over.

Thankfully, there was a narrow patch of shoulder up ahead. I parked, sat in my car, and waited while he pulled in behind me. And no, it wasn’t embarrassing at all as car after car slowed down to ease past, getting a good look at me, the criminal. I felt like Bonnie Parker of Bonnie and Clyde. I half-expected him to pull me out, frisk, and handcuff me.

What had I done? I hadn’t even seen a cop car.

He took forever to emerge from his vehicle. No doubt he was running my plates through the system to make sure I wasn’t wanted in seven states. I braced myself for one of those burly cops with the muscles and crew cut. Or maybe he’d be like Rod Steiger from “In the Heat of the Night,” toothpick sticking out of his mouth, approaching with that casual swagger.

When he finally emerged, I tried not to gape. He appeared twelve years old, with a thin, wiry build and wavy brown hair. He looked like he just got out of a student council meeting. Coming up, he gave a shy smile.

“Hello,” I said. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t come to a full stop at the sign back there.” He almost looked apologetic. All I could think of was my son Paul, grinning right now.

Luckily, being neurotic, I had all my paperwork in hand – license, insurance card, and registration. I keep all these in a baggie in my glove compartment for just such an emergency. As I handed him everything, I hoped I’d get points for efficiency.

 “Nice!” he said, as he took my readied documents. I preened at the compliment.

After he returned to his car, I put my head back and sighed. It’s times like these I thank God I’m a boring person. I can’t remember the last time I was stopped for anything, maybe for going through another stop sign, over 20 years ago.

After ten minutes of me, the criminal, sitting on display for all the world to see, he returned and handed back everything. By now, I felt a warm maternal vibe between us. He called me Maam and I called him Sir.

“I’ll just give you a warning,” he said.

“Thanks so much,” I replied, with a smile. What a nice young man.

I drove away and we both waved our goodbyes. Even though it had been an easy encounter, I made sure I stayed well within the speed limit. Funny, I noticed other cars doing the same. Had this kid cop stopped them too?

When I told Paul about what happened, he laughed. “That’s the same stop sign I went through!” he said.

My God, it must be genetic.

Although he was the sweetest policeman I’d come across, I still learned a lesson. They are out there, and we don’t always see them. And even though I found the least intimidating officer on the planet, I know bigger, tougher ones remain.

I can’t imagine what goes on in the mean streets of our cities. In the meantime, even in the country, I’ll be careful with those stop signs. Like my son, I’ve learned to be vigilant.

 

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