I’m not proud of it, but a few weeks ago, I received a speeding ticket.
I was driving from my sister’s house on one of the national highways that runs through my rural hometown and was just half a mile from turning off onto the gravel road that would lead to me to my mom’s house. I had had my cruise control set to 63 mph, even though the speed limit was 55, but I had just passed through an intersection with a stoplight, and I had forgotten to reengage the cruise. Plus, I had one of my favorite CDs playing and was singing along at the top of my lungs.
The state trooper was apparently flashing his speed radar at oncoming cars while driving westbound. Because when I sped by him going eastbound, he made a U-turn so quickly, I was sure there was an escaped convict in the car just ahead of me that he was chasing. When I slowed down to let him pass, he instead pulled in behind me. I felt my heart in my throat; I hadn’t gotten a speeding ticket since I was 18.
“I clocked you at 66 miles per hour,” the officer said when he walked up to my car.
“Oh, well, I had my cruise on earlier, and I don’t think I was going that fast,” I said, trying to defend myself. When the U-turning officer had first swung around behind me, I had glanced at the speedometer and it was hovering around 64 mph.
“I just need to see your license and registration,” he said, not really caring about my cruise control.
While he was running my plates, I sat there embarrassed and mad. I wasn’t going that fast, I thought. In Indianapolis, if I don’t go at least 10 miles over the speed limit, someone will rear-end me, I reasoned. Maybe I should mention that I have cancer, I plotted. Maybe I should tell him I have cancer and that I’m going to visit my step dad who has cancer, I thought, feeling justified.
I was right, sitting there fuming behind the wheel. All of those things that I was thinking, they were true. When the officer walked back to my car just a brief three minutes later, I was sure that he had seen the light and decided to give me a warning.
But about the warning, I was wrong. He was apparently just very quick at writing tickets. The charges were made, and after giving me the standard warning, “Slow down out there, ma’am; the speed limit is 55,” he sped off, not even waiting to make sure I safely merged back into traffic. Not that there was any traffic.
Later, as I was looking over the ticket, determining how much my speeding indiscretion was going to cost me, I saw three options on the ticket. I could either plead guilty, and pay the fine. I could plead innocent and defend my case in court (and pay the costs). Or there was a third option. I could plead nolo contendere or “no contest.” In that case, I would still pay the fine but at least I didn’t have to accept the charge. It would be power to the people! I could stick it to the man!
For days before I made my plea and submitted payment for the fine, I thought about nolo contendere. Choosing to accept or not to accept the charge actually had nothing to do with whether I was guilty. And even if I wasn’t going 66 mph, I certainly wasn’t going 55 mph.
When it was finally time to complete the form and mail the money, nolo contendere was no longer about sticking it to the man or even standing on my principles. It simply meant choosing not to accept responsibility for my actions. And that was not acceptable.
So I took a deep breath and checked “guilty.”
And when it was finished, I was free.
Photo by Joe Shlabotnik, via Flickr, used with permission under the Creative Commons License.
Don’t worry, it happens even to more experienced drivers to receive speeding tickets. Still, you could have chose to plead non-guilty and defend yourself in a court, with a lawyer by your side that’s specialized in traffic charges. He would have found problems with the ticket and contest it, so you would have won.
Oh now, this was priceless.
I too liked the singing and the excuses. Did you also think to mention to him that he’d exceeded the speed limit? 😉
Your cancer excuse made me laugh out loud.
Cue Rascal Flatts: “Life is a highway. I wanna ride it all night long.”
Hope over from pollywog creek. Oh I know that journey well…but like you…I am free..it is a lighter way to walk when I am not carrying my justifications for my actions…
Sorry about the speeding ticket, Charity, but what a great story with a moral. And you told it so well..I was right there with you the whole way…even in your head. Thank you for this.
Oh, Sheila – I LOVE your comment!
Charity, you are a solid citizen and an honest woman. Nolo contendre for a speeding ticket??? Wowza. In CA, you can go to traffic school, pay the fine and not get a point on your insurance record. And that’s worth it. If you fight it, you’re stuck for expenses AND you can lose.
My favorite example of honesty on the road comes from my son. He was about 17, a new driver and coming home relatively late from a church gathering. He and a friend were on the freeway, which was nearly empty, and got the not terribly bright idea to challenge each other with speed. (Yes, it terrified and angered me when I heard about it.)
But…my son was in front and the cop pulled over his friend. Eric got off the freeway, circled back around and pulled in behind his friend and said to the cop, “If you’re going to give him a speeding ticket, then you better give me one, too. We were both wrong.” I still love that story – and hope I would have been as honest and loyal. YOU did the right thing. Good on ‘ya.
Go, Charity! Sing your lungs out.
And own your actions.
I love this! My mom got a BIG speeding ticket when we were driving from CA to Kansas City. She later told my brother on the phone: “That car was built for the wide open desert highways and I may never get to drive it on them again. It was WORTH it!”
She was doing about 88 when the officer hung that u-turn.
I drove the rest of the way.
I often engage in those mental gymnastics Charity – knowing in my heart of hearts what is right. You told the story so well, and I am quite proud of you!
Perfect ending! “And when it was finished, I was free.” Love it!
Have to tell you, I laughed out loud when I read “stick it to the man.” It sounded so non-Charity, but then maybe I’m wrong about that. Love your spunk for writing that line! There’s a little rebel in all of us – some more than others, of course.