I have been pulled over a total of two times in my life. The first was a state trooper who stopped me to make sure that I knew I had a headlight out (I had bought a replacement bulb and was driving home so I could repair it...amusing timing). The second happened last night...but it wasn't so innocent.
In the town I live in, there's a back road I travel nearly every day that winds past a hospital. The speed limit sharply drops from 35 to 20 mph on a downhill curve by the emergency center. It's a tough thing to do, but I'm used to riding my brakes down the road. Last night, however, I apparently didn't hit them as hard as I usually do, because when I was halfway-past the hospital, I was still at 25mph. I saw the cop car in the parking lot just ahead. The first thought in my head was that he'd stay there for someone driving much faster--and after all, my brake lights were clearly on, so it was obvious that I was slowing down. I have *NEVER* been pulled over for speeding and RARELY ever drive more than five miles over the limit. This couldn't happen to me.
A few seconds later, the cop pulled out behind me. His lights turned on. My stomach twisted like a frustrated teen trying to work out a Rubic's Cube. Panic and reason battled for control of my thoughts, eventually working out a 50/50 split that had my hands shaking but my voice steady. I busied myself pulling my driver's license from my wallet, searching for my registration, and trying to find my most current insurance card (I never throw them out for some reason, so it took a good few minutes to find the one that wasn't expired). The police officer, a guy I didn't know--shocking for my hometown, actually--walked up to my window, asked for the paperwork, and retreated to his car. That minute was one of the longest minutes of my life. I was in trouble. I hated being in trouble. It's one thing to admit you were driving a little fast. It's another to have to literally pay for it.
The officer approaches my car again and hands me back my paperwork.
"Do you know why I pulled you over, Ma'am?"
I nod. "I'm guessing it's because I wasn't slowed down fast enough. I was hitting the brakes, but apparently since you pulled me over, I was still over twenty."
"I clocked you at 26."
I nod. There was no point arguing it. My old car had a faulty spedometer, but this one was fairly accurate as well as I knew. Now that I was thinking about the details, the needle had been resting above the long line marking the legal speed limit.
"So...do you think I should give you a ticket?"
My face must have shown just how confused and surprised I was at his statement, but his face remained impassive. Should he give me a ticket? What kind of question was that? How was I supposed to answer? For a moment, it felt like I had just been Punked or put on some crazy television hidden-camera show that would showcase a real American reaction when put on the spot. There was a correct answer to this, but it wasn't black and white. I wasn't purposefully driving too fast. I have a clean driving record. I know just about all the police officers (except this one, of course) in town and could have easily played the "friend" card. It wouldn't be lying to point out any of these things. I had excuses I could claim, too--I was tired, had bad allergies, the sun was actually in my eyes, etc. Dozens of "cover stories" raced through my mind, sorting themselves by believability and potential persuasive power. I opened my mouth after making a fast choice that seemed natural and right.
"Well, obviously I don't really want a ticket, but I understand if you have to give me one. Techically, I was breaking the law when I passed you. I'd appreciate a warning instead, but if you feel you should give me a ticket, that's fine. I'll pay it."
The words had barely left my lips when I heard a voice screaming at me inside my head. Did I really just suggest to a police officer to ticket me? How was I going to pay for it? What would my mother, who has shouted from her soapbox for years about how speeding tickets were the stupidest tickets anyone could get because they were completely avoidable, say when she found out? I had little idea what all was involved in paying for such a citation, either. Would I have to go to court, or would this be as simple as mailing a check to the appropriate state office? What about the points on my record? Loudest of all, had I completely lost my mind?!?!
In the sense of the world's opinion, I had lost at least my common sense. Using an excuse or trying to downplay the event would be the most logical choice...assuming that my goal was to get out of the ticket. That would be anyone's goal. At that moment, though, even though I knew I would have a hefty financial and emotional price to pay, I just didn't want to lie or bend the truth or "come up with something." Maybe I was more afraid of getting caught in an excuse or even, had I chosen to do so, a white lie. Maybe I figured in the long run that this wasn't that big of a deal.
I'm pretty sure the streak of extreme truth was more of a sign of my strong(er) walk with God. I did what He would want me to do--be honest.
Apparently I wasn't the only one surprised by my answer. The officer looked closer at me. "Excuse me, but did you just say you were ok with getting a ticket?"
I smiled. "I guess so, yeah. I mean, I can't really deny that I was going a little too fast." My shrug at the end hopefully conveyed what I couldn't find words to say. Although this is going to really be uncomfortable, it is the right thing to do.
The officer took a step back and smiled at me. "Well, then. In that case, Ma'am, you have a nice day."
I blinked at him, mutely watching him nod respectfully as he went back to his cruiser and talked briefly into his radio before driving off down the road. My shock permeated every inch of my being. It worked...and I hadn't even been trying.
Doing the right thing is rarely the easy thing to do. What makes it harder is that even if we do the "right" thing, there's no guarantee it'll work in our favor in the end by other people responding in kind or the situation coming to a satisfying close. If I had pulled out some of those excuses or "variations" on the truth, there's no way to know for sure if I would have been as successful in avoiding the ticket. My experiences with persuasion and knowledge I have of other people's encounters with cops tells me that I probably would have been ok using the not-so-squeaky-clean methods. What I gained yesterday was not just relief after a close call. I also gained self-respect and joy that God took care of me for doing His will. He would have provided the money if I had a ticket to pay, and directions for doing it properly so my name wouldn't end up in the newspaper under the police blotter.
So today I drove down that road...very, very slowly. God blessed me once. Next time, I might have more discipline in store than a simple warning.
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