* * * * *
Lucky
“I'm afraid we're going to have to call it off,” I said to Spring [1] over
the phone.
“Why?”
“Because I'm talking to Mr. Officer here,” I said, looking up and out the car
window at the State Trooper as I handed over my drivers license, insurance
card and registration.
I was rushing home from rebooting a recalcitrant server, doing about 80mph
(Miles per Hour) on I-95 so that Spring and I could catch the Tri-Rail [2]
down to Opa-Locka [3]; Spring thought I might like to take pictures of the
City Hall [4], and in order to do this, we needed to make the 5:00 pm train.
But I suspect Mr. Officer overheard my comment to Spring. He glanced at my
papers, then pulled a pen out. “Would you rather have a warning, or a
ticket?” he asked.
Well. That's certainly a no-brainer. “A warning?”
“Okay,” said Mr. Officer. “Just keep it slow, and you'll want to check out
your tire there.” He pointed to the front driver side tire. “That looks to
be, what? 20 pounds of pressure. A bit low.” I climbed out of the car and
took a look.
Yup, it was low.
“So please, get it fixed.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the written warning from him. “Merry Christmas.”
And I'm trying hard not to get cocky [5] (and yes, the car is now legal to
drive).
Afterwards, I called Spring back, saying that we could probably make it
afterall, but that we would have to meet at the station [6].
[1]
http://www.springdew.com/
[2]
http://www.tri-rail.com/
[3]
http://www.cityofopalocka.org/
[4]
http://www.pbase.com/airlinerphotos/image/3505941
[5]
gopher://gopher.conman.org/0Phlog:2006/10/06.1
[6]
gopher://gopher.conman.org/0Phlog:2006/12/17.2
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