"A fine day, officer!"

Clearly, I need to get my head around this blog thing. Talk about a missed opportunity. 

Last week I was dashing between warehouses where we store stuff related to my job, trying to tie up some loose ends regarding a trade-show trip next week.  I was in my Beetle, which most folks assume is a glamorized golf cart.  

My secret is that my silver Beetle is a turbo, which Volkswagen stopped making a few years back ... I suspect because they were too darn dangerous. 

You see, it can move pretty fast without much coaxing.  I love it. I'm convinced it loves me. 

So Beetle and me, we're shooting across this Kansas highway bridge with the radio cranked, in sure bliss.  Then I hear the siren through my sunroof, see the red lights in my rearview mirror.  Busted.

I quickly pull over, and Officer Badge No. 3534 (his name isn't really relevant here) walks up behind my front-door window and, in that calm way that officers do, politely asks for my driver's license and proof of insurance.

"You were doing 43 in a 30, sir," he says.

I mumble in agreement as I'm fumbling to find my insurance card.  I find last year's, then 2006, 2005, 2004 ... but not this year's.  

"It must be on my desk at home," I stammer.

The cop chuckles.  "OK, be right back."

While I'm waiting I stew over the waste of it all -- at least a couple of hundred bucks down the drain, I tell myself. 

IF, though, I had been on top of my blog game, I would have set that pain aside and turned the tables on Officer No. 3534 -- in a nice way, of course.  I had my camera there.  I could have snapped a quick photo of him posing by his car.

And then I would have asked him, in the best tradition of journalism, for his most interesting stories of handing out tickets.  Surely he must have some doozies.  You can imagine some of the excuses:

• "I wore my heavy shoes today."
  
• "I thought I was going uphill, not down, thus the need to punch it."
  
• "My pet boa constrictor is attacking my cat. I must get home!"
  
• "I'm a Mizzou fan being chased by rabid Jayhawks." 
• "Oh, was that me driving?"
  

Alas, it wasn't to be.  Officer Badge No. 3534 returned with my license and the dreaded yellow ticket ... "Notice to Appear on the 22nd day of October, 2008," it said. And if I can show proof of my insurance then, he added, I can reduce my fine.

"Fine," I meekly replied, missing the irony of my words. "Thank you, officer." 

Of course, it's unlikely he would have sat for an interview.  Official policy and all.  But still, I wonder ...

Only later do I imagine the headline: 

Intrepid reporter, blazing bug caught in speed trap   

And the kicker: 

Says driver: 'I have no excuse'

Addendum:

This ticket is doubly painful because I've lectured both Meghan and Zach on the 9 mph rule -- that is, generally if you keep your speed to no more than 9 miles per hour over the speed limit, you won't get a ticket. 

In my case, I'll let you do the math.