Thursday, November 20, 2008


I loved Destinee's 'first offense' post and after a couple hours of thought I finally remembered mine. Now I can't believe I had forgotten. I think I must have tried to block this out . . .

My brother's and I moved pipe for a farmer in the summer time, which was one of the ONLY places I was allowed to drive at the time (like I had many places to go at 15?!). This is what we drove . . .

. . . only this is it new. I think my parents bought it off a guy trying to get rid of it for $50. Ours was 20 years later, a lot oranger (maybe rustier), a lot less paint, a lot more broken handles and the fabric that made up the ceiling inside was sagging down so far I almost couldn't see out the window (I stapled that up, by the way). Eventually it ended up like this:

Anyways, covered in mud and soaked up to my thighs I climbed into the car, finally, time to go home. And really, there's no need to lie about it anymore, I always sped on that road (please don't tell my mom). Mom, if you're reading this, I don't anymore, I swear.

I have no idea how fast I was going, but the speed limit there is 55. I, like Destinee, didn't notice the lights in the rear view until I was already pretty close to home. However, luckily I wasn't quite home yet and pulled over out of sight of any family members - unluckily, I was right in view of a few houses in my ward. Wish I would have just finished my way home.

The window on the drivers side did not roll down. Well, once in a while, if you were good that day, it would think about it; and if you were really good it actually would. I watched the officer walk up to the car in the side mirror in horror. PRAYING, praying, praying that I had been really, really good that day; already knowing that going the speed limit, that would have been really, really good. But speeding, that probably wasn't quite going to cut it. It didn't. I opened the door. "The window doesn't work, sir," I spit out as fast as I could, knowing you weren't supposed to do that. He had to have heard me, but no comment. No, he got right to the point.

"Do you know how fast you were going young lady?" was the question I heard from a headless police officer, since he didn't even lean his head down to look at me. Thank goodness. I may have started crying. {Why is that so scary? It's not like he's going to haul you off to jail.}

"No," was the reply I barely squeaked out in between hyperventilated breaths.

"Well, you do know you were speeding, right?"

"Yup," I said. Come to think of it, I'm not sure he did tell me how fast I really was going. Maybe I flew by him so fast his meter didn't even read it.

"Well, I'll need to see your license and registration." Classic, right? Expected. Ask any girl who moves pipe (you won't find many) who the heck takes their purse with them to move pipe that early in the morning? Again, not many; and unfortunately, I'm not one. As I thought of a way to cleverly explain why I did not have my license something else dawned on me. The glove box, where the insurance and registration were conveniently kept, didn't open most the time either. Real convenient, eh?

There was no clever way to tell him I didn't have the license, and likely no clever way to let him know about my glove box either. That's it, I was going to jail for sure. I just said it. "I don't have my purse with me and . . ." then I decided not to tell him about the glove box, maybe, just maybe it would open and there would be no need.

"Okay, I'll still need the registration."

Okay . . . the moment of truth. AHH, IT DIDN'T OPEN!! I hit it pretty hard a couple of times in desperation. So then he decides to lean down. I turned around, fully ready to explain this too, but everything I was about to say left me when I realized we were now eye to eye. At 15, pretty intimidating. (Who am I kidding? At 22, still intimidating)

"Uh, umm . . . yah, that doesn't always open," I confessed.

"Do you think you better keep those in a different place then?" He asked. Before I could answer, he hit me with something totally unexpected.

"I noticed a jug under the hood that really probably shouldn't be there. What's in it?" he asked as he pointed at those holes in the hood close to the windshield used for ventilation or something. Yup, there sure was a jug in there.

Are you kidding me, I thought. Can you just give me the ticket or whatever you have to do and let me go?? I didn't know what was in the jug. I didn't put there. My brother was the mechanic. I didn't want to have anything to do with this situation anymore. JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!!

The bad dream just turned into a nightmare. He asked me to open it. You're probably not going to believe this, but my jerry-rigging brother had a trick for opening the hood too. It was then that I decided we had paid too much for that gosh dang car.

I knew it had something to do with a screw driver that was kept in the middle console, but really didn't know how it worked. "I'm not really sure how to open it. You have to do it with this screwdriver," I showed him, then slumped over in my seat. All the pride I had left went flying right out the open door, "but you're welcome to try if you want to." (I can't believe I said that)

He must have watched that pride grow the wings and fly away and had a little sympathy because surprise, surprise he said, "I don't think I even need to ask if you'll do that again, do I?"

"Nope," I said, more embarrassed than I had ever been in my entire life.

"Okay," he said, "I hope not. Have a better day."

I should have sent him a Thank You card. Too bad I can't remember his name or I maybe still would.

Anyone else have a good one??


Hobley said...

hahaha!! that story was hilarious! thanks for sharing! poor beckii! i could picture the whole thing happening and it was funny! if only i could have been a fly in your car!

Kathy said...

I remember when this happened. I laughed out loud AGAIN!!!! I also remember the literal dance you did just knowing that orange tin, no steel, can was getting smashed.
BTW, if you thought I didn't know you sped on hwy 48 you've forgotten about the private eye angel who followed you around through all your teenage years who reported to me often.

bulldog said...

Your probably right about "watching the pride fly away." And having a little sympathy for you.

I've watched it happen more times than I can tell you, and felt the sympathy towards those I've pulled over.

The question is HAVE YOU STOPPED SPEEDING. I'm going to guess no!!!!!!!!!!!!

bulldog said...

Love you to Beckii girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Destinee said...

That is so funny! But I gotta ask... what was in the jug? I'm flashing to a certain Seinfeld episode w/ Cramer blood.

Eric said...

I think it was water in the jug but i'm not for sure so i will get back to you on that.

Kent and Becca said...

K... that is a horrible hilarious glad it didn't happen to me story. Thanks for sharing>>> still getting a little chuckle over the thing.