Use Your Grandchild
The earliest knowledge I have of someone getting out of a ticket was when I was around 8. My Grandma Thielke (Pronounced “till-key.” Now you know.) ran a stop sign. The police officer who always hung around our lazy subdivision turned on his lights and sirens and pulled Grandma over. As he walked up to the car, my cousin Laura started crying inconsolably. Poor kid. She thought this man was going to take her grandma to jail.
The officer, like a lot of guys, didn’t know what to do with a crying female. Even if said female was only 4. He gave Grandma a warning and got out of there as quickly as he could. Laura, the youngest of 14 grandchildren, quickly climbed to the top of the ranks.
Use Your Husband
The only vehicle I truly loved was a van we had while the boys were growing up. I had an emotional attachment to that van because after my mom died my siblings and I sold her condo, and we each got a small portion of the proceeds. I was able to buy the van with that money.
The van reminded me of her when I drove it; hence, I loved that van. It had a side door that slid open and slid shut at the touch of a button on the key fob. I loved that cool function. It obviously doesn’t take much to entertain me. I had convinced so many of our sons’ friends that door was magic and would slide open and shut at their command. All they had to do was say their name. Loudly. The door slid open. The door slid shut.
Magic!
So easy to dupe those kids, and if it scarred any of them in any way, I am truly sorry.
When one of the headlights of the van went out, I brought it to my husband’s attention. More. Than. Once. Vehicle maintenance and mowing the lawn were part of his domain.
He would take care of it for me, he assured me. More. Than. Once.
One evening I was pulled over, and I knew exactly why. It was the headlight. When the officer came to the vehicle I said, “It’s the headlight.” He agreed.
I looked at him, and with God as my witness I was not trying to get out of the ticket. In fact, I thought a ticket would be a great wake-up call to my husband. I said, “I told my husband More. Than. Once. that the headlight needed to be replaced.”
He looked at me and laughed! Laughed! Such a good sign. He said he pretty much treats his wife’s requests the same way and feels bad about it now. So, because he and my husband were now buddies in arms, he let me off with a warning
The headlight was replaced shortly thereafter.
Use Your Dog
One fine day, my husband and I were embarking on an incredibly bonding, relationship-building, fun–way, way too, too much fun–outing. I know you’re going to be jealous: We were on our way to a funeral home to talk to the financial manager about setting up and paying for our pre-arranged final ceremonies when we leave this earth.
Taking care of our children from birth to death. Theirs to ours, that is.
You’re welcome boys.
On this fun road trip I was blithely going way too fast on a small stretch of road where a police officer happened to be waiting. I was pulled over. The officer slowly walked up to my car and stopped for a bit to look in the back seat. She came to my window and informed me I was speeding. I didn’t argue. I gave her my license and proof of registration/insurance, and she went back to her vehicle to check on any outstanding warrants and what not. After being satisfied my background was clean and the car not stolen, she walked back and again peered in through the side window.
“I see you’ve got a dog blanket and food bowl in your back seat.”
Visions of dollar signs danced in my head. A speeding ticket and now . . . what? Is a seat belt for a dog required if there’s proof of a dog? How much could a ticket like that possibly cost? Can you get a ticket for breaking the law when you didn’t know you were breaking the law?
“So, you’re a dog owner,” she said. I nodded, not knowing what to think. Or say.
“I am too. So how about I just give you a warning.”
Dog lovers unite!
Score one for Charlie the dog. Extra dog treats were definitely in her future.
Use Your Husband and Your Dog
Over the last ten years, my husband has been chronically sick with a myriad of problems: kidney failure, peritoneal dialysis, a nephrectomy gone terribly wrong where he had more blood transfused into him than you have in your body right now, colorectal cancer (why not?), chemo, chemo/radiation, cancer surgery with complications, transfusions, in the ICU with pneumonia, many ER visits and hospital stays with viruses, high temps, and dehydration.
The anti-rejection drugs to keep his transplanted kidney functioning compromise his immune system, and chemo does the same. Fun fact!
All this to say, my husband gets sick. A lot. Makes me tired just typing this.
What does this have to do with getting out of a ticket you may ask? Here’s my little story:
One day my husband became sick. Really sick. 103 degrees sick. He was diagnosed with bronchitis, and the antibiotics were not working. His temp remained 103. I suggested he go to the ER, and he refused. It was the height of the flu season, and all ERs were slammed.
We’ve had soooo many interesting, dreadful experiences in almost every ER in Nashville, and he refused to go. I didn’t blame him.
I told him to think about how a temp causes dehydration, which could knock out his kidney. The only kidney he had left, by the way.
I suggested he pray about all this and let the Holy Spirit whisper in his ear that his wife was right, again, and he needed to go to the ER, again. Meanwhile, I was going to take the dog to the boarder because I saw days in the hospital in our near future. Again.
I put the dog in the car and took off like a shot. I mean a shot and a half. Plus some.
On the main street through town I gunned it at the light. Just as soon as I wooshed down the road, a police officer was in my rear view mirror lights a flashin’.
He walked up to the car, and asked me, “Ma’am. Why are you speeding?” I said my husband is sick really sick he has a 103! he’s had a lot I mean a lot wrong with him and I have to take him to the ER and get the dog to the boarders because we’re going to be in the hospital for a while I just know it and someone needs to take care of the dog while we’re there and this is my husband’s car and it’s way more powerful than my baby car that just I gave my son in Maryland because he didn’t have a vehicle through no fault of his own and he had to take a bus one hour each way to get to work and school which is actually you know a 2-hour round trip. On a bus.
During all of this my dog was in the back seat barking ferociously. The cop slowly shook his head back and forth wondering how to get rid of this crazy woman. And her dog. Solution: Point to the stop light down the street.
“You see that stop light down the street? You know, you’d be all the way down there and closer to the vet right now if you hadn’t been speeding and we weren’t talking right now.”
Yes, I thought. Yes, I would be all the way down there and closer to the vet right now if I hadn’t been speeding and we weren’t talking right now.
I was bright enough to keep that thought in my head and not let those words come pouring out of my mouth.
He let me off with a warning.
Know What I Mean Jellybean? 