We
were making good time on our way to see Cheryl Strayed speak. I was more worried
about finding the location of the presentation because it was on the campus of
Ashland University. I didn’t know how far away we’d have to park from the
presentation site.
Since it was summer there wouldn’t be many people on campus to ask about
direction and I was afraid of getting lost in a maze of similar looking
buildings.
Less
than 30 minutes from Ashland, I was driving down highway 60 on a clear
afternoon with wide open farmland in all directions and very little traffic. The
speed limit was 55 and I was more than comfortable driving 65ish. Nothing could
make us late now.
I
looked at the GPS and we were now only 22 miles away and when I brought my eyes
back to looking ahead, my stomach turned upside down. There he was, a county
sheriff heading in my direction from around a rare bend on this rural road. My
65ish was really 70ish or maybe even 72mph. Before I could take the customary
deep breath and acknowledge that sinking feeling, his lights were on and he was
making a quick u-turn as I went by.
This
would be the first time I was ever pulled over with Kellisa in the car. I didn’t
slow down since that would be an admission of guilt. The sheriff quickly caught
up and I was still hoping he was responding to a call and would zip right
around us, but he never passed. Hoping it would hold our weight, I pulled over
on the gravel shoulder. I was kicking myself for speeding. There was no way we’d
make the 7pm start time.
I
sat there waiting, wishing we could just get this over with as quickly as
possible when the sheriff requested that I put the car in park over his loud
speaker. I guess in my nervousness, I kept my foot on the break. Maybe he
thought I would speed away once he was out of his patrol car. The thought never
crossed my mind.
He
slowly approached the car and asked if I knew why he pulled me over. I knew I
was caught, so I went with honesty, “speeding”. He asked why I was speeding and
I proceeded to explain about the presentation and how I really didn’t want to
be late.
He
then asked for my license, registration and proof of insurance. I explained
that I was driving a rental car as I handed him my agreement. He said I still
needed proof of insurance in Ohio. I pulled a tattered old insurance card out
of my wallet from 2009. I explained that I still used the same company, nothing
had changed and this was all I had. As he was looking at the old piece of paper,
I removed my driver’s license. He was looking at me and firmly asked why I had
two picture IDs as he took a step back. He seemed a little on edge as a hand
went down out of my sight.
With
my heart pumping too fast, I quickly looked down and realized the cause of his
concern. Behind my license was Kellisa’s State of Florida Identification Card
with her picture. I pulled this out and explained that it was my disabled
daughter’s while I rolled down her back window. Up until this point, I don’t think
he realized she was in the back seat. He took my license back to his car. While
I waited my fate, I was trying to figure out the fine, hoping for under $400.
After
seven long minutes (I was hoping there was nothing on my record that would
create additional interest), he returned to my car and handed over a yellow
piece of paper. Before I could read anything, he explained that he was just
giving me a warning. As I thanked him, he told me to “slow it down to 55, it
will drop down to 45 in a few miles”. I was both relieved and thankful as I put
the car back in drive and started back down the almost lonely road to Ashland.
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