This weekend, we made the 5 hour drive east from PDX to visit DH’s family (my family too, since we’re hitched and all) in John Day, OR. And let me tell you something…that drive is long. And twisty. And curvy. And I get carsick almost every time.
However, it is well worth it because we always have a good time. It also makes for good blog fodder, so this is going to be a multi-part post. I can’t cram it all into one post without losing some of the flavor. And I think you deserve flavor. I know Pineapple does – and since someday she needs to have a clear picture of her early childhood to share in her support group, my recounting of this trip will get some extra attention.
So to begin….
We all crawled out of our cozy bed at 5:00AM on Friday when Pineapple woke up complaining about her teeth hurting, cursing us, and demanding a bottle (baa-buu in Pineapplease). We threw some clothes on, left Pineapple in her footie jammies, and jumped in the pre-loaded car to head out of town. I drove for the first couple of hours because it was dark and I didn’t want to barf during the winding parts…and I got a ticket. Well, sort of.
I was driving down the road in the early sun and saw the cop coming toward me – a little too late. So, when he made a u-turn and started to follow me, DH told me I was being pulled over. We speculated over where a good place to move to the shoulder of the road might be while I denied that it was happening, repeating “he may not even be after us – I should just keep going until he gets right up on us.” And DH educated me about being pulled over, explaining that if I didn’t get onto the shoulder of the road and stop the car, the cop might think I was ‘making a run for it.’ Which I declared obsurd but pulled over anyway.
When the nice officer came to the window, he asked if I knew why I was being pulled over. To which I responded – eyebrows raised, sheepish grin, high-voiced – “because I was speeding?”
“Do you know how fast you were going?” the Sherriff asked.
“About 60 – maybe 65?” I said – again with the high voice.
“Actually, I clocked you at 73” he informs me and goes on to ask “do you know the speed limit here?”
“60?” I ask – hoping that I’m close.
“Actually it’s 55 ma’am” he says – ma’aming me.
Then after accepting my drivers license and registration – I have new car insurance and don’t have the card yet and having not had a ticket in, oh, ever, I didn’t bother to bring the temporary – he makes his way back to his car to type on his computer and make sure I’m not a psychopath dressed in a sweatsuit driving a white Subaru Outback loaded to the brim with baby supplies and a protesting child. I’m not – thankfully – so it doesn’t take him long to check my background. While he was gone, I wondered to DH if maybe the nice officer would give me a warning. But DH informed me that they don’t do that anymore because everyone needs money. So it was with a heavy heart that I see him returning to the window with a yellow slip of paper and my information.
Leaning in the window, he says “now this isn’t as bad as it looks ma’am – I gave you a ticket for not having your insurance but that’s it. And all you need to do is contact that phone number on the back and fax them in a copy of your temporary card and then it is customary for them to drop the charges.”
I smile and say “thank you so very much – I promise to fax it in as soon as possible!”
He smiles, taps his hat, and then DH feels the need to contribute to the conversation: “That is incredible. I just got through telling her that the police don’t give warnings anymore – they all just ticket you. Wow.”
The nice Sherriff and I both look at DH. I have no idea what the Sherriff was thinking but I know that I was thinking: “WHAT THE HELL?! Are you kidding me right now?! Why do I let this man out of the house? Do they make DH sized muzzles? Where could I get one? I wonder if they have any fashionable ones?…Maybe something in blue. He looks nice in blue…I do not own a single blue sweater. I should buy one. I like blue. And it….Oh yeah – police officer and DH just offended him…WHAT THE HELL?!” But the nice Sherriff just tipped his hat again, smiled and made his way back to his car.
As I merged back onto the highway, I looked over at DH, who was staring at me, and asked “why didn’t you just say ‘cops suck’? It would have been more to the point.”
DH: “I was just trying to let him know that I thought it was really nice.”
Me: “Then why didn’t you say ‘that was really nice’ instead of something that sounded very much like ‘cops suck’?”
DH: “I dunno. You’re driving everywhere from now on. If I’d been driving, we would have had 3 tickets or he would have cuffed me or something.”
Me: “You are so odd. I’m buying you a muzzle. A blue one – to bring out your eyes.”
TO BE CONTINUED…