I was driving home from my doctor’s office last year when I was stopped by a police officer. It was late in the afternoon, and school was just getting out. I saw children stampeding out the doors of their building, piling into buses and running down the sidewalks. A yellow blinking light reminded me to go slowly.
Alas, I did not decelerate enough. I was going 30 mph in a 25 mph zone.
I could have pointed out to the officer that even though, technically, I was speeding, I was obviously proceeding with caution. Or, I could have derided him for wasting his time on such a minor offense. I was, indeed, tempted to lecture him about how careful I was being.
However, I did none of these things. I simply handed him my license and registration, with a rueful smile.
We have had some tragic altercations in this country between police officers and civilians. I’m not here to take sides; there certainly is plenty of blame to go around. But I hate to see the disrespect—sometimes outright hatred—for law enforcement professionals that these incidents have engendered. While police brutality cannot be condoned, overreaction and blanket judgments could lead us into a dangerous, lawless state.
Besides, it’s not hard to see situations from a police officer’s point of view. How did he know I was reaching for my registration that day, and not a gun? The other day, I apparently hesitated a minute too long before entering a rotary and a guy driving a pickup truck behind me went ballistic. At first I gave him the stink eye, but when I saw his weird gesticulations, I just drove off as fast as I could. He could have been a crazed meth head who was poised to sideswipe my car, or even shoot me.
I get it that cops don’t know what’s going to happen on a routine traffic stop, in the middle of a fall afternoon, in a picture-perfect small town in the relatively peaceful state of Maine. So I just sat quietly as the officer checked my record. I reflected that, as an educator of 25 years standing, I was well aware of the traffic hazards posed by school dismissals. It’s likely that I am more obsessed than most people about avoiding running over small children. In fact, I had been so intent on keeping my eyes on the road, I hadn’t even shifted them to the speedometer. Young man, 30 feels like a lot like 25!
The officer returned to my window. He gave me a written warning and let me go. At least I had a good story to tell at lunch the next day. “You know how wild I am? I got a warning for going 30 in a 25 mph zone!”
I have an acceptable driving record, but I’ve had a couple of accidents over the years. I got a ticket once for turning right at a stop light where that was prohibited. What can I say? It was six in the morning. I wasn’t even awake yet.
One of my most memorable cop encounters came when I worked one night a week as a newspaper copy editor. The rest of the week I worked days as an editorial writer, so it was hard for me to adjust to this single shift of 3 to 11 p.m. (or even later—the news never stops). I had probably driven half a mile on the way home when I saw lights flashing behind me. I stopped. The officer approached.
“Do you realize you’re driving without your lights on?”
My reaction has been lost to time, but I may have banged my head on the wheel in embarrassment.
I turned my tired eyes to the policeman and explained my tale of woe. Or, to be more precise, exhaustion. I was surprised he didn’t have me get out of the car to walk the line, but maybe I talked so much he had ample opportunity to realize I wasn’t drunk. Anyway, who’d make up a story about working late setting up pages at the local newspaper?
He just waved me on, but he followed me for a few blocks to make sure I was doing okay.
I did break my rule, that time, about not harassing police officers with sad stories, but I was beyond tired. And I guess it showed.
I’ve never really discussed my thoughts on “how to behave when stopped” with anyone, and I suspect the media would regard them as politically incorrect. So I was surprised, and delighted, when one of my favorite authors, Sue Grafton, included such a scene in her latest novel, “X.”
Private eye Kinsey Millhone, the heroine of Grafton’s “alphabet” series, is trying to return some mementos to a woman she’s never met before. Thinking Millhone is perpetrating a scam, the woman’s father calls the cops.
After noting that “traffic stops are dangerous. A non-confrontational encounter can turn deadly in a heartbeat,” Millhone rolls down her car window and puts both hands on the steering wheel.
“I could write a primer on how to behave in the presence of law enforcement, which basically boils down to good manners and abject obedience,” she thinks.
I couldn’t have said it any better myself.
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