The Getaway

Like Dustin Hoffman’s character in Rain Man, I am an excellent driver.  Imagine my surprise to see flashing lights of a law enforcement vehicle in my rear view mirror.

“Don’t worry, Sugar, I can lose him,” I assured my lovely wife.

“But you are already stopped,” Sugar pointed out. 

“I know.  I will wait for the officer to get out of his car, which will give me a headstart while he has to run back to it.”

“Too late, Butch Cassidy, he is already approaching the window.”  Sugar had distracted me during my opportunity to flee the scene and thus spoiled our getaway.  Sugar does not have what it takes to be a successful criminal. 

“Good evening, Sir,” said the young cop.  “How are you tonight?”

“I am frightened,” I lied (nothin’ scares me), “because I do not know why you would stop me.”

“Did you see that car when you pulled out to turn right?  You almost hit it.”

“Officer, I don’t think I almost hit it. It almost hit me.  I did not even see it.  It must not have had its headlights on.  If you hurry, you can catch that lawbreaker.”

“Why did you pull over into the bike lane after you turned?”

“Because I heard the siren and know that it is the law to pull over for emergency vehicles,” I patiently informed him.

He might not have heard me because at that moment an ambulance roared by, lights flashing and siren screaming.

He asked for my license, registration and insurance card.  I got my driver’s license from my billfold while Sugar retrieved the insurance card and registration. 

“Where are you coming from, Sir,” the officer asked.

I knew the answer.  “We ate at El Burrito, just around the corner.” 

“Did you have anything to drink?”

“Just water.”  (Sugar had lemonade, but since she was not driving, she was not interrogated.) 

“Well, I have to go back to my vehicle.  Wait here.”

As the policeman did whatever they do in the car, such as checking my F.B.I. profile, Sugar speculated about how much the ensuing ticket would cost.  What a pessimist.

The officer returned, handed back my license, registration and insurance card, and said, “I am letting you off with a warning.  Be careful pulling out.  There are a lot of drunks out on this road on Saturday night.”

So I carefully pulled out, nearly colliding with the officer as he drove away.

“Now aren’t you glad you did not make your getaway and have a car chase like in Bullitt with Steve McQueen?” Sugar asked rhetorically.

“I think he let me off because he recognized me as a member of The Rural Land Use Advisory Board.  I don’t want to use the powers of my office in that way.  I just want to be treated like he would treat a member of the General Public.  I have half a mind to report him for showing favoritism to me as a public official.  I am a Man of the People.  I insist on a citation and the right to trial.  I have already planned my defense.”

“Let’s go home,” Sugar sweetly suggested, “It is nearly 8:30 p.m.”

Like I said, Sugar does not have what it takes to live the lifestyle of a criminal.  Fugitives don’t go to bed early on a Saturday night.  They have to flee and hide out.  It takes dedication to be a good fugitive.  Sugar has too many diverse interests to devote herself to evading arrest. 

And that is just one episode of our life of adventure.  Stay tuned.