Ticket

Eleven years ago this Summer my dad forwarded a piece to me from Texas. It was a letter from governor George W. Bush.  He had counted up the number of traffic violations I’d been convicted of in the last little while – four years I think it was – and decided that thirteen was too big of a number.  George was writing to let me know I’d lost my license in the State of Texas.  Love, George.

What Mr. Bush didn’t know was that I had just been issued a new license in the State of Tennessee.  And the State of Tennessee knew nothing about my driving record in Texas.  Or the folks checking it out couldn’t count that high.  Not sure.  Don’t ask, don’t tell I think is the best policy in this case.

So I was gifted a clean slate in Tennessee.  And I’ve been a pretty good boy ever since. I’ve had only two tickets in the last eleven years.  Not bad.

But, honestly, I don’t drive much.  My road manager does most of the driving when I’m on the road.  And Becky, who has been pulled over plenty but never ticketed on account of her being a beautiful woman I think, does a lot of the driving when I’m at home.  My driving frightens her.

Regardless, I have a pretty good driving record these days.  I’ve shown improvement at the very least don’t you think?

Driving to Indiana on Wednesday I was alone though.  I was on a distressing phone call while passing through Kentucky.  Someone I care about was having a hard time, to say the least, and we were disconnected mid-sentence with them in tears.  I closed my phone, tossed it on the passenger seat, and my mind filled up with words.  I started thinking about what I could and should say when we talk again.  What would I want to hear in their situation?  My brow was furrowed, my thoughts were racing, and I stopped paying all my attention to driving.

The speed limit must have changed about then.  I must have missed the signs.  And my foot must get a little heavier when I’m thinking hard.  I got pulled over going 82 in a 55 on interstate 65.  And I didn’t have proof of insurance because Tennessee, where I live, doesn’t require it.  And the police officer said both of these violations mean I must be present in court on such and such a day.  I can’t just mail in proof of insurance and pay the fine – I have to be there to hear the judge tell me I did a bad thing.  I have to be there to write the check.  That means a good three and half hours of driving there and another three and half hours back – an entire day wasted to go to court.  Completely my fault for getting the ticket, but does it make sense that I have to be present to settle up with Kentucky for it?

Make sense or not, I will have to go to court.  Unless I can find an attorney in Kentucky to go to court on my behalf.  Know one near Louisville?  Let’s talk.

How’s your driving record?  If it’s not so good I recommend moving to Tennessee.  They won’t check on it here and you can eat anything you hit with your car.  Sweet.

By the way, before the phone call and the ticket I took this.

image

Yes, that is a Mario brother – possibly Luigi – and his dog with matching mustache.