Love that Honda

Officially, I have now owned my new car for approximately 1 month and 12 days.

Today, I got pulled over.

Now, before I get into this story, It requires a certain amount of setup. Last night, I went from work to Erin's house (my girlfriend) and stayed the night. Whilst there, I remembered that I didn't have any sugar left for my coffee the next morning. I filled up a baggy with some borrowed sweetness from my sweet, and fell asleep.

Also, a new employee wanted to cover my morning patio shift today, but didn't bother to change the official "Master Schedule", so I assumed that a manager had vetoed her request, so I planned to go in to make sure that my shift was covered.

So...This morning I wake up, go out to my car, throw the sugar into the glove box, go to my apartment, do the triple S, and head off to work to find out that the new employee actually has reported for work, and that I am free to go home and enjoy my morning until my 5 o'clock dinner shift.

So I driving down my beloved Westlake Ave, in spectacular radio rockin'-sunroof open fashion. I'm doin' about 40. Posted limit is 35, no problem. I'm nearing the end of the avenue, and I pass what looks to me like a decommissioned cop car. ("Seattle Police" painted over, no lights, etc.) I remember thinking at this point "I hope that was a decommissioned cop car".

So, he turns on his well concealed lights, and pulls me into a little drive under the 99 bridge. I turn my radio and car off, and get into character - trying to act as non-threatening as possible. This is only the 2nd time I've been pulled over, so I'm a little rattled, but I felt confident that my secure license, Insurance, Registration, and good (that is non-existent) driving record would pull me through.

Guy walks up (a strapping young lad) and says "Morning, could I see your license...Etc etc." and I say (server style) "Yes Sir, absolutely". My job taught me how deal with people in the ultra respectful yet not cheezy manner, and it seemed to work, the guy's smiling. I scramble through my wallet, find the license, hand it over. Open up the glove box, grab the pile of papers and such in there, and start searching for the other paperwork as he's saying, "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
Trying as best as I can to make my own eyes water, I smile a weak, vulnerable smile and say politely:

"Probably because I was going too fast, sir."

He gives me a small "yeah, no shit" smile, and says "Yeah. you passed me, and I had to do about 50 to catch up to you, and we drove right past a sign posting the limit at 25."

At this, I act absolutely shocked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought it was 35 on Westlake." and hand him my Insurance card from the stack of papers I'm rifling through, still looking for the Registration. As he's informing me "Yeah, this last part right here is 25 because of the bridge construction..." I glance over at my glove box.

There, in all its glory, brilliantly reflecting the hot sun, is my little ziploc baggie of Sugar. Only thing in the freakin' glove compartment except for a couple of taco bell napkins and a straw a la McDonald's. Now, I know its sugar, and the sugar knows it's sugar, but to the cop, It probably looks like 7 with good behavior, so I reach over and shut the glove box in a panic. Fortunately, my friend in blue didn't notice my sweet stash or my sudden move to shut the glove box, and it didn't become an issue with him.

"When you find the Registration, just hang it out the window so I can see it" he says, and headed back to his car. After having done this, I sat back and tried to look extremely flustered, as to give the impression that I'm really shaken up, even though, I felt very calm, feeling as if that I was just "keeping up with the flow." (everyone in the flow except, of course, the cop)

He comes back, and breaks into the mysterious language I call "coptounge".

"Well sir, the city gives officers a lot of discression when issuing traffic violations. In order to make a proper assessment of a violation I have to consider 3 things; Previous driving record, overall attitude of a driver, and suspicion of further infractions. Given your clean driving record in the last 5 years, your cooperation and demeanor, I'm gonna issue you a warning today. "

Sucker!

I immediately broke into a babbling excuse machine. "I'm so sorry I just got this car and I'm not used to it and I work down here and I drive this stretch every day and I just got carried away and didn't know the limit was lowered and I...." but he was already giving me that cop "It's ok son, its ok..." Look and telling me to have a nice day.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't mind cops. We have a very "I don't bug you, you don't bug me" relationship. I'm glad they're out there. Never helped me out, but I'm sure they help a lot of people somewhere. I rarely get into situations when any law enforcement is necessary. And this one was a decent young "good" cop, rather than my other pull-over experience with the VPD, who just fishes for reasons to screw with the younger population. All in all, I don't have any general animosity towards him specifically or them in general . (keeps me from getting arrested)

However, I hate tickets. Rather, I hate unexpected expenses. A speeding ticket definitely falls into that category. Right now, I'm trying to relocate back to California so I'm on a strict budget. I also don't want to have to schedule some sort of traffic school. The thought paying a ticket or traffic school didn't really fit into my schedule. (hee hee)

And...Lastly, I was speeding. Absolutely. At least going 40ish, but probably more like 45. I'm not gonna claim that I'm a by-the-speed-limit driver, never have been, not even in my old car. I mean really, who is these days? People who drive the speed limit are usually the ones that you pass because they are going too annoyingly slow. I was not, however, going too fast as to cause any sort of danger to myself or other cars. I'm not gonna risk damaging the car I haven't paid for yet. Personally, I blame Fine Japanese Engineering.

To my mom: don't worry, I was wearing my seat belt.
To my dad: Thanks for the driving lessons.