Tuesday, September 2, 2014

     So we were cruisin’ along highway 74 in the right lane harmonizin’ to James Taylor’s Carolina when Mr. Wonderful noticed a large white vehicle closely approaching from the rear. I was lost in the music unaware of his observation. All of a sudden, I looked over, and what looked like a zombie humvee with tinted windows was paralleling our small sports car. Mr. Wonderful muttered, “What the hell?” and pulled out in front of the guy. Instantly blue flashers began spinning, and the next few words I heard were unprintable. Scrambling in the glove compartment for our papers, I was startled when my window went down and a round mustached face appeared in mine. I jumped a foot, and squealed. The “nice man” said, “You know why I stopped you, sir?” Mr. Wonderful stammered, “I suppose I was speeding (yup--according to the fuzz buster easily recognizable on the windshield), but I can’t stand it when someone comes up beside me like that.” “Yeah,” I added, “I always think someone is going to shoot us!” The officer couldn’t help but smirk. He obviously hadn’t encountered this schtick. Babbling on about tinted windows and criminals targeting bald-headed men and their divas in sports cars, blood pressures were rising quickly. The kind-hearted officer said, “I understand, sir. Just slow it down, please,” and off he went. The two of us just looked at each other, our mouths hanging open. I immediately made a note on my cell to send a check to the state policeman’s ball.