On the Road Again

Once upon a time, I was driving home to Kentucky.  It was my third such trip in the past four weekends.  I am very tired of that road.  On my previous journeys Carolyn McCormick entertained me by recounting the deaths of nearly everyone in Panem.  This time I only had music to help keep me alert, unless you count my copilot who was busy playing spider solitaire on her laptop.

I don't remember the exact location, but some where on that fourteen mile stretch of 55 in Missouri, I saw a state trooper getting on the interstate.  It was a good thing that I was paying attention since he did not have his headlights on.  I moved over to the left lane, so that he had plenty of room for merging.  The lane change was unnecessary since he just parked there on the shoulder of the interstate.  About a mile further down the highway, a there was a trooper on the side of the road with his lights flashing parked behind some criminal.  I again moved over to the left lane leaving plenty of room for the trooper and his prey.  Approximately a mile further on, there was a third little piggy on the side of the road with his lights off waiting for law breakers.  For the third time courtesy got the better of me, and I moved over to the left lane.

I had just turned to my copilot to remarked on how well protected that stretch of interstate was, when I saw the flashing lights behind me.  My first instinct was to glance at the speedometer, but of course the cruise control was still set at sixty-nine.  I pulled over assuming that I had a tail light out.  Years ago I had been pulled over just a bit further down 55 because the lights around the license plate were out.  The cop said the reason that he pulled me over was because I had not signaled when changing lanes.

I think that it would have been difficult for him to see my left blinker while sitting on the right shoulder with a semi truck right in front of me.  I typically only let my blinker flash once when changing lanes, especially when there is no one behind me, as was the case last night.  Since he was only giving me a warning, I did not feel any need to argue.  Now if he had been following me on 40, he would have had plenty of excuse to pull me over.  There were about eighteen miles starting from Forrest City where I was weaving in and out of traffic with out using my blinker at all.  My hands were busy with a Blizzard, so I wasn't even steering with my hands.

The stop would have been enough of an annoyance if he had just warned me then sent me on my way.  Instead I had to get out of Betty and go sit in his car while he looked up my driving history.  He asked me several questions during that time.  I don't know if it was just small talk intended to put me at ease or an attempt to discover a more serious crime than failure to signal.  My instinct was to answer his questions with, "I don't think that's any of your business."  I knew this response would risk getting me a ticket instead of just a warning.  I've got more money than sense, so fear of a ticket wasn't what held my tongue.  I knew that answering his questions would be the fastest way to resume my travels, so I was polite and, much to his chagrin, he had to let me go.

I let my blinker flash several times before pulling back on the 55.  I can't be sure since it was night, but I think that the trooper pulled on to the interstate behind me.  I am a good enough driver that I was not worried about him following me, but my instincts, honed during my checkered past, forced me to try to keep an eye on him.  Highway U was only about a mile away.  When I took the exit, the car behind me did also.  That could have just been a coincidence, since that is a well known short cut to 155.  When I turned east onto 155, the car kept going and turned west onto 155.  That proves that it was the trooper because no one would take that route on purpose.

I must have seemed suspicious to him, since he followed me to make sure that I turned toward Kentucky, my stated destination.  I got the impression that he stopped me for not signaling just hoping that he could charge me with something worse.  Lucky for me, he did not open the truck and see the illegal immigrants that I was smuggling across state lines.