It must have happened in 2005 when I visited my sister to help attend to the death of my mother. My sister and I had been out to lunch and shopping. We were going home and I was driving. We were having an animated conversation when my sister began shouting at me, “Slow down! Slow down!” I hadn’t changed my speed for some time so what was the big deal? Her excitement made me aware now that all the cars around me were suddenly slowed to a crawl. Carol said,” This is a school zone!” I glanced in the rear mirror and too late! Red and blue lights flashing behind me.
I pulled over and received the citation. I found out that the school zone indicators were set back from the street . Although they were flashing, I hadn’t noticed them.
I thought I would take care of the problem immediately. We drove straight to the police department and got in line to pay the charge. Sorry, this ticket cannot be paid yet since we have no record from the officer. Come back later. We had already stood in line amid noise and tension and didn’t relish another dose. We drove home.
The next day, I tried phoning to see if I could arrange to pay by mail. I still didn’t know the amount of the charge. When calling, a mechanical voice said that the charge for going 1 mile over the speed limit would be such-and-such. Two miles over the limit would be this. There was no way to fast forward to my level, 19 miles an hour over the limit. I just sat and listened as the amounts rose, wondering what it might be for me. Finally, 19 miles an hour over the limit = $249. Too big a chunk of the limited cash I had brought with me from Wisconsin. I called Lynn and asked her to send the police a check for that amount.
I can still picture Officer Lopez skillfully moving through the slow-moving cars to fasten on me, cutting me from the herd. He was polite and interesting but I don’t mind if I never see him again.
