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Other Voices
I come from a long line of heavy-footed drivers. Without the invention of cruise control, I very likely would have had many more speeding tickets than I've had, and I very likely would be taking the bus to work because I doubt I'd still have a driver's license. If the sheriff or the police chief is reading this, please know that I'm talking in hypothetical terms right now. Of course, I always obey the posted speed limits. I believe very strongly that one shouldn't pick a fight with anyone who has arrest powers. On the other hand, my Uncle Bubba, who considers the posted speed limit merely a suggestion, got so many tickets when he was a traveling salesman in south Georgia that I'm convinced he was on a first-name basis with every state trooper and sheriff 's deputy from Willacoochee to the Alabama line. Looking back on that time, I'm convinced the troopers and Uncle Bubba should have worked out an arrangement like Andy and Barney had with Otis Campbell. Andy and Barney never actually arrested Otis. After he went out and got himself a snoot full, Otis would show up at the Mayberry courthouse, pay his $2 fine, let himself into his cell and sleep it off. After his 24 hours was up, Otis would let himself out of the cell. On his way out the door, he'd tell Andy and Barney, "See you fellas next Saturday night." It was simple and efficient justice. Now there was no reason for Uncle Bubba to spend any time in jail. But it prob- ably would have been easier on everyone if he just would have stopped and paid a fine everytime he passed a courthouse. Of course, the one stumbling block here is that Uncle Bubba isn't always as good natured as Otis Campbell. Once while he was traveling on a two-lane south Georgia road, a state trooper passed him on a double-yellow line. Uncle Bubba sped up, got behind the trooper and signaled for him to pull over. "Are you aware that you passed me on a double-yellow line?" asked my uncle, after he walked up to the side of the trooper's car. "No, sir, I did not," the trooper replied. "Would you like me to take you back to the exact spot where it happened?" Uncle Bubba asked, openly defying the "don't pick a fight with anyone who has arrest powers" rule. Fortunately for Uncle Bubba, he had stopped a level-headed trooper. Had I been the trooper, I probably would have demanded my uncle take a field-sobriety test right then and there. But instead, the trooper played along, even offering to give my uncle the paperwork he'd need to file a citizen's complaint against him. Not everyone in my family is as openly hostile to law enforcement, though, and it often pays off with good results. My Great Aunt Cecile was on her way to Georgia once when she was stopped for speeding by a Florida state trooper. After checking Aunt Cecile's license and registration, he informed her that he was going to have to write her a ticket. But as he started writing it, his pen ran out of ink. He searched his pockets for a spare, to no avail. Ever the Southern lady, Aunt Cecile reached into her purse, pulled out a pen and handed it to the trooper. "Miss Heard," the trooper said with a smile, "I can't write you a ticket with your own pen. How about you just slow it down for me and have a safe trip." He then turned and walked back to his car. I'll concede that, on the odd occasion, I've been known to exceed the posted speed limits, and once I got out of a ticket thanks to an unlikely source. On my way home to visit my mother in Blakely, down in Early County, I was stopped by an Early County deputy just a few miles from town. "What's the hurry?" he asked. I said I was on my way to meet my mother for lunch, and I was little behind schedule. He looked at my license again and asked, "Who's your Mama?" I told him, and he broke into a wide smile. He handed my back my license. "You have a nice day, sir. And tell your mother thank you."
And that's just what I did.
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