Speed Kills

“I fought the law, and the law won…”
--Bobby Fuller

I spent four grueling hours today at “traffic school” for a bullshit ticket. Normally, I would not say that, because I speed like The Flash in a race against Superman (how’s that for COMIC GEEK-DOM?), but this was a bogus ticket. I was passing someone and the cop pulled me over for what he could clearly see was me trying to move around some loser who did not know their way to navigate Normal’s ISU. He was a rookie, as he had a “helper cop” in his car and another pulled along side of me.

I, of course, could not find the latest proof of insurance card, as I had twelve or so of them, but not the current. He put me down as he curtly said “Sir, it is obvious you do not have proper insurance” as I rummaged through the stack of cards.

“Officer, I have insurance,” I said.

“Uh-huh…” he muttered.

“OK, I admit I collect these cards,” I exclaimed. I gave a rolled-eyes look at the other cop.

He nodded at me and said “Mike, calm down.”

I asked the other cop as I pointed at “Dick Tracy” on my left, “His first ticket?”

“Second,” he smiled.

So I went to court, produced my insurance card, and was granted court supervision—which in my county meant “TRAFFIC SCHOOL” on “Defensive Driving.’

Sheesh—what a crock of crap.

I listened to this former Sheriff tell us every mondo-bizarro (Ramones plug) scenario known to mankind. Then he broke down as he told us of the death of his foster son because of a lack of wearing a seatbelt. I feel sympathy, I honestly do. The former Sheriff seemed like a decent sort of person and this was somewhat therapeutic for him, I am sure (since he said it was).

That aside, this material could have been covered in an hour, but this puppy was dragged out for four bloody hours—four bloody hours. We had lessons on not drinking and driving, how much breaking distance one has, hazardous road conditions, and plenty of good old Southern Illinois Sheriff stories about traffic citations. I learned I should check my mirrors every fifteen seconds and that my speed will increase my risk of death by 6 times more than if I was driving 55 if I hit something at the speed of 85.

Now in the class was a chatterbox woman, some guy who bitched he and his son were unfairly pulled over (at least I bitch on a blog—not in a group as to not embarrass myself), some high school kids whose parents made them attend this for their first ticket, and some old woman should not be driving based on her lack of motion and her insipid questions.

Guess what though, for speeding, I deserve this.

I have learned that I should not speed—for sure—my first ticket in five years.

I also learned next time to take my chances because I will not ask for this again. I left that building pissed enough to want to ram into something—we covered road rage as well.

I also learned a lesson for teaching—never take a full period to cover what I can in fifteen minutes.

Slow down, kids—trust me—it is not worth it—rookie cop or not.