I got pulled over today by the Missouri Highway Patrol. They seem to love me a lot, or at least love pulling me over. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I just enjoy blazing through the nothern part of the state like it’s the Daytona 500.
Today, I got clocked doing 60 in a 45. Sorrrree! The cop says to me, “You just passing through?”
I look at him, as my dog begins to growl, and say, “Well, kinda. My grandpa’s funeral was on Thursday and I’m just on my way back home.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says and then takes my license and insurance back to his UNMARKED car.
I wait a while, a very short while, and he comes back without anything in addition to the things I gave him. “Drive safe,” he says, “and try not to speed.”
I look at him, he looks at me and then hands me my driver’s license back, and makes it a point to have his thumb underneath my birthday.
So, thank you, Missouri Highway Patrolman, for the lovely birthday present. It was honestly the highlight of the past week for me.