So busted

Published 12:00 am Sunday, June 26, 2005

Two things: I’ll never again slow down to see if I recognize the car/driver pulled over by police, and I’ll never question the validity of women’s age-old claims that they

seriously cried after police pulled them over.

Why the rant?

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A little over a week ago, it was me in the driver’s seat. Yes, clearly in the wrong. It was a busy Friday here at the News-Herald around 5 p.m. and I needed to dash out, take care of some errands, and return to get the paper out.

Instead of driving about a football field’s length (ok, a little exaggeration) to exit our parking lot, I made my trek out of the entrance-not exit. I honestly normally don’t do it in the dead heat of day when every car in the world is trying to enter the municipal lot, but my head was not in the right place.

I usually reserve this faux pas for my late night exits, lending itself to a quick getaway out of such a crime-ridden area. The exit points of the lot are not as well lit as the entrance. But on the day I was caught, there was no sympathy in store.

I pulled out only to see the blue and white whip into the lot and back out to follow behind me. When I didn’t see the flashers right away, I thought for a brief second I had escaped and vowed I would never do it again. But the lights would come on and in the middle of the after work rush hour, there I was pulled over where it seemed all eyes were on me.

How embarrassing. Not that I haven’t ever been pulled over before (I’ve probably averaged once every 5-6 years for speeding), but I just wanted to slither under the dashboard.

Officer P. approached and asked the customary question, &uot;Do you know why I pulled you over?&uot; Without any premeditation as to what I was about to say, I confessed yes, and went on to ramble shamefully, &uot;I do it all the time…&uot; How stupid, I would find out later.

I dug for my registration card, at first panicking because I didn’t have a clue where it was. Thankfully I located it. Officer P. returned to his car for about 5 to 10 minutes. I really don’t remember how long, but it seemed like an eternity.

When he handed me the ticket, I was in disbelief. Why, I don’t really know. My first response: &uot;You couldn’t just give me a warning?&uot;

Officer P: Well, you admitted that you did it all the time. Then I followed with something like, &uot;What I meant was that I usually don’t do it in the daytime, just at nights when I’m working late….&uot;

I knew if I said another word, I was going to burst in tears. That’s just how upset I was even though I knew I really had no grounds for sympathy.

Sensing that I was a little beside myself, I suspect, Officer P. seemingly sought to provide some comfort by assuring me, &uot;It’s not like…you’re a bad person.&uot;

I took my ticket and went on take care of my errands that were still waiting for me, despite my haste. In a nutshell, I was just sooooooo busted.

And by the way, to add a third thing to my never-do-again list, I’ll never fail to obey all road/parking lot signs.

Luefras Robinson is the managing editor of the News-Herald. Reach her at 934-9613 or email luefras.robinson@