Prior to today I have been pulled over a grand total of once. Given my driving style which is best characterized as boredom-induced wreckless brevity, that’s astonishing. I was busted doing 94 in a 55 on a highway in North Carolina. I was also in the middle of an active phase of mono (didn’t know it at the time) and having a massive sugar crash. That’s why I didn’t see the cop and got busted, despite never ever getting busted any other time. To give you a sense of what an anomaly that was, the first time I drove a car on a real road I was thirteen. I’ve had a license since I was sixteen. Also, that ticket didn’t actually make it to my driving record, so that time almost doesn’t even count.
Today I’ve been pulled over twice. For expired tags. On my roommate’s car. I got a ticket the first time, and a, “Well, I guess I won’t cite you twice,” the second time. The tags are almost a full year out of date. It’s not my car, so I’m not capable of registering the tags before I have to drive this car to work tomorrow. Don’s in Chicago for a smoochie weekend with his girlfriend and not answering his phone which means he’s probably not going to go online to register the car when he gets home tonight.
Both cops followed me for a mile, a mile before finally pulling me over. I’m guessing they were waiting for me to make a mistake so they could nail me for something better than expired tags on a car that isn’t even mine. Fortunately I’m capable of driving like a sane person. Why Don’s never been pulled over for his expired tags, particularly given the way he drives, is completely beyond me.
I was going to get stuff done today, but now I think I’m going to cower in my house and cave in to full-fledged “Cops are everywhere and after me,” paranoia.
Don, if you read this before going to bed tonight, register your goddamn car. And then tell me about it so I have something wittier to tell tomorrow’s cops than, “My roommate sucks.” Though, to his credit, the first cop agreed with me.