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wandaredhead

Bless His Heart

wandaredhead
16 years ago

My truck was a-rockin' on our trip home from visiting my new grandson yesterday.

It was late in the day; about 8 pm or so.

I had Christian, as well as my 13 and my 5-year-old granddaughters, whom were all excited about their new baby brother.

We had the music turned up pretty loud, were all singing, clapping our hands in time with the music (somewhat) and just having a good time.

It happened on a long, dark stretch of the road I travel almost daily.

I saw an oncoming car approaching and I let up on the gas a bit but not quite enough and not quick enough.

Yes, he caught me on radar.

I have been driving for 39 years (count them...39 years) and this was the very first time I have ever been pulled over for anything...not for speeding, not for running a light, not for running a stop sign...never, ever, ever been pulled over.

I could see the $$$$ signs adding up and up and up as the officer made a U-turn and pulled in behind me.

As the officer was turning around and parking, I had already pulled over and parked off the side of the road.

To put it mildly, Christian was in the back seat in the middle of an hysterical melt-down.

I got out of my side of the truck and opened his door to try to calm him down.

He was rocking back and forth violently.

He was sobbing with his little hands on his face.

He was reaching for me and crying and screaming.

I kept trying to reassure him that the office only wanted to talk to me.

Christian was begging, "NO!! (sob/cry/scream)

Don't take my mama to jail. (s/c/s)

Oh, no. (rock/rock) (s/c/s)

What are we going to do? (scream)

Mama is going to jail. (s/c/s)

I wonder if my daddy is home yet? (scream/wipe tears)

Can he come get us? (s/c/s)

Oh, no. NO!! What are we going to do? (rock/cry)

Will they take us to the kid-jail? (s/c/s)

Will they just feed us bread and water at the kid-jail? (s/c/s)

Mama, will they gave you something to eat? (tears and more tears)

Will you have a bed to sleep in? Oh, no. (cry/cry)

Mister, please, please don't take my mama to jail. (beg/beg)

Mama, here. Take my beach towel so you will have some cover. (cry/tears)

What are we going to do? What are we going to do?"

(s/c/s/rock/tears/beg....)

During the time all of this was going on, I remember several times the officer saying something about, "Nobody in this vehicle is going to jail."

By the time things had calmed down enough the office could get in a word edgewise, I honestly think he forgot why he stopped me.

He said something about, "Ah, er, ah, you were driving a little fast. I think I clocked you driving 58 in a 45. Ah, er, I think that's what the speed limit is through here. Ah, just be careful, mam. Have a good evening."

As the frazzled young officer was walking back to his patrol car, I could almost swear I heard him under his breath saying something about "Note to self--never, under any circumstances, ever again stop that red-headed woman in that red diesel pick-up truck."

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