Bekah Gets Pulled Over

Seriously? This is my birthday post? Sigh.

One day last week, I drove part of the way to work behind my friend Sheryl, and when we arrived at the station, she told me I had a headlight out. It was news to me!

Given that I felt so blechy all week, I didn't take the car anywhere to get it fixed. I did, however, make sure I only drove in daylight hours. (See? I was trying to be a responsible adult.)

Saturday morning, first thing, I drove to the auto parts store and said, "I need a new headlight and I don't know anything about them." So the nice guy went out, looked at my car, came in, found the light I'd need, and sold it to me. I asked him if he could install it (because someone told me they could do that.) He said they weren't really supposed to but if it was the kind that went in without tools, he could do it. So we went out, popped the hood, and he messed with it for a while. Turns out I drive one of the lucky tools-required cars, so he couldn't fix it.

I was a little mad about that, because Saturday night, I had to drive to Ohio for work, and I really didn't want to come home after dark with only one headlight. But I didn't have a choice, so I put the light in the front seat and decided to ask someone at church about it the next day.

Before I left town, I felt even more uneasy about the whole thing, so I called one of my old work friends to see if he was home. Nope. I decided I'd done what I could, and I went on my merry way.

As I left Celina (which is a town in Ohio, if you're not familiar), I saw a cop at an intersection, but I am pretty sure he didn't see me...whew! Dodged that bullet! So I left town and was the most attentive driver EVER on the way home. I turned down the music, I didn't talk on the phone, I watched for deer very carefully. I had this horrible feeling that one was going to get me and I wouldn't see it because of the missing light. In fact, I almost took my favorite back way home but elected not to because I feared the inability to see deer.

Just as I drove into Marion, my phone rang, and it was a friend I've not talked to in AGES, so I answered and we talked while I drove through town.

And therein was my mistake. Not the talking part. The through town part. 11:00 on a Saturday night in heart of bar country is NOT the place to be if you want to avoid cops. As I drove past the row of bars, two cops pulled up behind me. No lights. Just much tailing. And I knew I was done for.

My phone conversation ended and I put down the phone to turn on my signal. The minute I signaled to turn onto my street, one stupid, stinkin' measly block from my own house, the lights came on.

Not on ONE car. But on TWO. Two cops were pulling me over one block from home for a stupid headlight.

I've been pulled over before (ironically always by two cops) but never at night. My WORD are those lights ever bright. Between two sets of red and blues...two spotlights...and then the flashlight in his hand - I couldn't see anything but brightness. He asked for my license and registration, so while shaking and crying, I found those things. (My glove box, by the way, looks like Jim Carrey's in Liar Liar - only mine isn't full of unpaid parking tickets. But finding a registration among the receipts and napkins...was a challenge.)

He said to me, "You have a headlight out."

While I'm on the roll of comparing my life to movies, THAT moment felt like the one in Pretty Woman when Vivian goes up to the hotel guy with the wad of money and says, "I have all this money but no one will let me shop." I told the cop, "I know and I bought a headlight, but no one can put it in for me!!" He shifted his little flashlight over to see if I was telling the truth, and whaddya know! There was the light on the floor of the car.

That was when he 10-4'd his good buddy over the radio that he was clear to leave as backup. Seriously? Do I look like a two-cop operation in my little tiny car with a pink antennae ball and my WBCL shirt?

He scanned over my license and said to me, "Is everything on here still current?" If I'd had my wits about me, I would have said, "Well clearly I've been on a diet since that picture, so not so much with the weight but yeah, everything else is right." What I did say was "Um yes. I live RIGHT THERE."

He let me go without a ticket or a warning, and I know I should have been really grateful but I was far too ticked off to be grateful.

I guess I had to do something wild and crazy to exit being 33. That wasn't quite what I had in mind.