On the fast track

“I told him he could read about it tomorrow in my blog,” I said. 

“You gotta be kidding,” said Hot Wheelz.

“Nope,” said my niece.  “She did.”

“So what do I write,” I asked, “in case he reads it?”

Hot Wheelz thought a moment.  “Say “today I met the most handsome California Highway Patrol officer ever.”

* *  * *  * * *

My niece Megan had made an offer I couldn’t refuse– three day weekend and new car kind of offer.  “Let’s drive to Utah,” she said.  I had looked up JetBlue prices a couple of weeks ago on line, and couldn’t afford to fork over the money they charged for airfare for the holiday weekend.

But I’m always up to seeing my sons.  I threw together warm clothes, loaded the backseat with a casserole of lasagna I’d made while nursing Coco back to health yesterday, a Panini maker and all the fixings, and fresh fruit.  More specifically oranges.  I’d driven over to see the grandkids last week, and plastic grocery bags sitting next to a hand-painted sign “Free oranges” on a curb caught my eye.  Plump and nurture is engrained deep in my soul.  Weaning is not so automatic.

I took the first shift driving.  So there Megan and I were early this morning making our way down I-15 in record time, taking in breathtaking views and chatting, mostly me spewing wisdom.  Age had taken the ability from me to be succinct by kidnapping proper nouns  from my vocabulary.  I was, as usual, in the middle of a descriptive monologue when I zoomed past a black and white vehicle parked on the side of the road.

I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late.  Within seconds, I was followed by blue flashing lights.   I pulled over and he so did my irritating tailgater.

A broad-shouldered officer strolled to my window.  He looked like a cross between Brad Pitt and Cary Grant, in other words, the “most handsome California Highway Patrol officer ever”.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted, but I was guessing it was even faster until I slowed down to peel the orange in my lap.  

Eventually he came back to my window, handed me a well-deserved speeding ticket.  “I did you a big favor ,” he said.  “I only wrote you up for doing 80.”  Wow, such a favor.  I was overcome with graditude, so much I can’t even say. 

“Ironic isn’t it?  I wanted to visit my sons in Utah, but couldn’t afford the airfare so I was driving to save money.  I even brought my own food,” I said, pointing to the backseat.  “Guess that plan just went to Hades in a Kia.”

The handsome officer smiled.  His eyes twinkled. 

“Now, I know how the Pittsburgh Steelers felt,” I said honestly. “ I wish I could have a 15-minute do-over.”

Before pulling back into traffic, Megan pulled the new car manual from the glove box and we learned how to set the cruise control.  “Guess what,” I said calling Hot Wheelz over a mobile connection, ”I just got a $500 speeding ticket in California.  So we’ll be a little later than expected.  How long do you think it will take to drive to Salt Lake City at 35 miles per hour?”

P.S.  We arrived safely, and checked out the $1.50 movie house for a late feature.   “I don’t think I can stay awake that late,” admitted Cheezy. 

“Good,” I answered, “I need to recoup $500 for this trip to come out on budget.  If you don’t go to the movie with us, I’ll only have $498.50 left to make up.” 

He grinned, just like that handsome officer had.

P.S.S.  You know the more I think of it, the officer really wasn’t that handsome.  I may have been caught up in the moment.

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