Awhile ago, I wrote a short post about averting a speeding ticket

My husband reminded me recently that he has the touch of innocence to thwart a ticket, too. We’ll call it the Midas of Sincere. Here’s the story, I kid not, appropriate for post-Fathers’ Day read.

My father was buried, gone with the wind, dead from a broken heart. We were on our way to visit with my husband’s family in another Hoosier city, several hours away. We’d then venture to some longterm friends’ cottage on a lake, drowning our grief with good wine.

My husband’s foot was afire on the accelerator, pushing down the pain. We may have been traveling 65 mph in a 25 mph zone… Well, it is likely that we were.


At least that’s what the small town cop, eager to make $$$ on an out-of-state license plated rental car, said. He had his “You’ve been bad, ver-r-ry bad” facial mask on. The look your mama had when she knew that you’d eaten the last cookie, the one reserved for your brother’s after-school snack. The long face that accompanied the teacher’s point toward the principal’s office. The steely look of “I’ve got you know” on every bad-ass law enforcer in the USA.

A look that such square citizens as us had seldom seen…

“Excuse me, sir,” I heard my husband said. “We just buried my father-in-law. As you can see I’m still wearing my suit.”

The cop craned in for a look at me, dressed in black with hands griped in a prayerful stance, willing them not to wring.

You could almost see visible grief on the cop’s face, as he watched $$$ wing away with his decision to relent.

He pulled in front of us to set a 25 mph pace. We glided the remainder of the small town main street, our own personal parade. Past window curtains held askew to witness the mid-afternoon anomaly, perhaps wondering if we were being escorted to the pen.

Wonder who the cop told the townsfolk, his law-abiding citizens, that we were, to cover his tracks and make himself walk tall? Did he tell them that he’d entrapped the 21st century Bonnie and Clyde?