Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Friday, April 06, 2007

Step away from the vehicle.

It's just not my week or I somehow pissed of the vehicle Karma Dogs.

The flat tire saga continues, as in, it's still sitting in the back of the vehic because I just haven't had the time to get it fixed.

I'm thinking, maybe...leave the three alloys, and keep the one primer gray spare. Wait...wait, maybe spinners? Then get it lowered. And buy woofers and some Fiddy Cent.

Tonight, after Keri's 24/7 Kab Kompany dropped the daughter off at softball practice (AGAIN) for her tournament team in a neighboring town, Mr. State Patrol pulls me over.

I'm 32. I have been legally driving for more than half of my life. I have NEVER had a moving violation ticket, only one parking ticket. I'm all about responsible/safe driving.

I drive back and forth to this town about three times a week. I've noticed a new construction project for about two months. Sometime in the last few days they posted a new lower speed limit...that I didn't notice.

Normal speed limit: 50. New speed limit: 40. I was going 52.
I hand over my current registration, current drivers license and current insurance all while being safely seat belted, because that's how us gangstas roll, throw um' off with being all legal with the responsible shit.
Mr. State patrol doesn't even get back into his car. He immediately writes me a ticket on the trunk of his car.
I'm lucky he didn't call it in, because I am really Jeffery Dahmer reincarnated, high on smack and I just did a drive by shooting before I jacked these wheels.

Two other State patrols pulled over two other cars immediately after me.

So, I was in the wrong. I'm OK with being wrong, which works out nicely because I tend to be, regularly.

When it came time to pick up the practicing softball daughter, I took special notice of all of the signs posted.
Yup, it says 40 mph.
Another sign states construction work hours which are 8am to 2:30pm.
I was ticketed at 7pm. Umm, the road construction workers have been at the bar for at least four hours. If I'm not mistaken, the primary point of reduced speeds in construction zones is for the safety of the workers.

Work zone traffic violations can't be challenged, and fines are doubled, $182 in my case.

I'd like to ponder the long term monetary affects on my vehicle insurance , but after consulting my Franklin day planner, it appears that I was previously scheduled to convene with my alternative familial replacements (gots to hook up wid my homies) to acquire Methylenedioxymethamphetamine (score some X) and eliminate a local competitive market (comin' to yo hood and gonna cap yo ass)*.

*It's just another one of my lame attempt at humor folks, relax. I don't have a racist bone in my body (except for that one time I fucked Jerry Falwell).


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2 Comments:

  • At Friday, April 06, 2007 7:36:00 AM, Blogger JoeinVegas said…

    Jerry Falwell? Will we be seeing photos of you in Penthouse now, or a tell-all book? Maybe Oprah?

     
  • At Friday, April 06, 2007 11:22:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    There was a time when I thought it was every respectable citizen's duty to respect cops.

    That was a very, very long time ago. Not lumping them ALL into the same category -- just the ones who pull shit like that. It sort of makes me lose respect for the whole breed, which is unfortunate.

    Please note: I have met three very likable people who are cops, and I'm sure they don't pull that shit.

    By the way, I've been meaning to ask your advice on the best way to sell crack to day-care workers:

    Should you do it before school starts, or during lunch break? I've tried both ways but got distracted when a cop pulled me over for turning right in a right-hand turn lane on the way to the day-care center.

    - Phoebe

     

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