I Can’t Drive 55

Forget Buckwheat.  Just call me Sammy Hagar.  This afternoon, I was pulled over by a state trooper just across the NJ/PA border.  I was doing 67 in a 35 mph zone.  Woops-a-daisy!

My $85 ticket (not nearly as steep as it could have been; it pays to be polite) was a lousy end to what had been a lovely day in Chadds Ford, PA, with my dear friend David and his family.  My visit included breakfast at Hank’s Place, a local institution with a sign out front reading, “Where hungry people eat, and friendly people meet.”  I highly recommend the Gourmet Peach French Toast.  “Would you like whipped cream with that?” our waitress asked me.  “Um…yeah.”

I worked with a guy once who said that whenever he was pulled over by a cop, he would start the conversation by saying, “Officer, I just want you to know that there are no firearms in this vehicle.”  To me, that’s the law enforcement equivalent of going up to a girl at a bar and saying, “I just want you to know that I do not have syphillis,” but he claimed it worked wonders with the fuzz. 

I did not try that this afternoon, but, when asked for my driver’s license and registration, I did make a point, as I always do, of asking if it’s OK to reach into my glovebox.   

Sadly, getting a speeding ticket is not an uncommon occurrence for me.  Within the past few years, I’ve received at least four that I can remember.  It’s almost to the point now that when I see a cop car, I simply ASSUME that he/she will shortly be coming up behind me, lights flashing.

I never have a particularly good reason for driving fast — except for the time when I had a horrific case of poison ivy and got a last-minute appointment with a poison ivy specialist.  I headed in the wrong direction, of course, and was desperately trying to make up for lost time, but squandered it royally by being pulled over for doing 92 mph in a 55 zone.  Ouch.

Then there was the time when I was scheduled to spend the night at a hotel in New Brunswick, but decided to make a break for home instead.  The only question was, “Would I make it home before the kids were asleep?”  Well, no, since I was pulled over for speeding — and had an expired registration AND and expired emissions sticker to boot.  The triple play, baby!

Why speed?  Well, I guess I’ve always been haunted by a general sense that my days on this planet are numbered.  Why spend any more time in a car than you need to?

So, I will see you on the road, my friends.  I’ll wave as I blow your silly doors off.

Tags: chadds ford, hank's place, sammy hagar, speeding