It was a typical day in the neighborhood. I had left later than planned for my trip to NJ but that was okay. I was bopping along the highway, singing along to the ‘Cats’ CD and ‘pletely a’noring the speedometer… and the rear view mirror.

When the lights fill your back window, however, you check to see if it is E.T. following you or… ulp… not.

Not.

He waved his arms widely to motion me over from the left lane to the right lane so there was NO POSSIBILITY that this was because the patrol car needed to get by me on the way to an emergency destination.

I stopped. Sighed again, and reached for the glove compartment to retrieve my registration and pull my drivers’ license from my bag, lowered the windows, and waited.

“Ma’am, do you know why I pulled you over?” The distinctive voice and wrap-around shades hunched down to speak into my window. “I clocked you at 85 in the left lane going over that hill. Is there a reason why you were going that fast?”

Amazing. The language, cadence, and timber were all Horatio. It was so very specific that I bet this guy practiced in front of a mirror.

“Reason? No reason, officer. I was singing with my CD and wasn’t paying attention.” My voice was level, calm, and apologetic.

“I see. Ma’am, may I please have your registration and your drivers license?” I handed them over. “Please wait here, ma’am.” and he returned to his patrol car.

I was feeling VERY “ma’amed” at that point. After twenty eight minutes he returned and lowered his face to my window, “Ma’am, I am going to explain this you.” (still in character!) “In this envelope is your ticket which is not a court appearance, you will mail it to the address provided. I have given you until July 18 to pay this fine. Information on where to send it are on inside this envelope along with your drivers license and registration. Here, ma’am.” he proffered the envelope.

$294 – boy that makes up for all the times I deserved a speeding ticket and didn’t get one!

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