The Ticket

the summons
Originally uploaded by bigjak67.

Here it is, with some of the sensitve data blacked out. Somewhere near the middle, where the lines are red, "No Insurance" can be seen.

The Court Date

the court date
Originally uploaded by bigjak67.

Here is the court date. I have to give them the money before July 13th, or else...

When we don't get what we deserve...

So I'm driving home from work the other day. It was my day off, but there was a meeting I just had to attend. I showed up in my overalls, caused a stir, and in fifteen minutes was back out on the road with the windows down and the Everly brothers on the radio. It was fine sunny weather with a steady breeze which down graded my lack of air conditioning from 'Hot as Hell' to 'mildly annoying'. My further lack of underwear also helped.

I got to the stop light at Broadway and 19th when out of the corner of my eye I notice a motorcycle slip into my blind spot. The action was smooth and quick; the mark of a professional. I should have known better than to turn and look, but just like the rubber-necking yokels around here who bring traffic to a crawl for the slightest fender bender, I craned anyway to see one of 'Moore's Finest' staring back at me. Before realizing what was happening, I whipped my head back around and looked straight forward, like nothing was wrong. This is a sure sign of guilt in porcine circles, and the bastard knew he had me.

When the green light came, I took off slowly still thinking to give an appearace that "All is well". The cop waited for about twenty yards of space between us before slipping in behind my clearly marked, Texas registered vehicle. The speed limit is 40 mph along that stretch of road. We were doing thrity-seven. At a hundred yards before the next intersection, I made sure to use my signal, just like they taught in Driver's Ed. The dark sunglasses I had on prevented the cop from seeing how many times I'd checked where he was in the rear view, as if that mattered. When I turned left onto Eastern, he turned on his lights. I wanted to puke.

Now to clear things up a bit: For the record, I acknowledge the fact that I am a man of many faults. Yes, I have a tendency to be a bit proud and probably self absorbed from time to time. I don't always follow through on my word and sometimes give a half hearted effort at the worst possible moments. I don't return phone calls as often as I should. I duck bill collectors like a prize fighter instead of paying on time. I'll fart in public places and quickly hide around corners just to hear little children yell, "Ewww, Mommy! What's that smell?!" I cry during war movies. Faults? I have them. All of these I openly admit to here in print for the world to see. Yet none of these things are nearly as bad, nor have they proved more troublesome than my habit to procrastinate. Observe:

I pulled over quickly, just far enough to be out of the intersection. The street wasn't as busy at that time as it would be around 4 pm, but the Seven-Eleven across the way was full, and people stared. The cop was slow to leave his bike, assumably running the plates at lunch time took awhile, and I think he liked letting me stew in sweat. My mind played out a multitude of scenerios, not the least of which included making a run for it. I'd love it in Mexico, especially this time of year. Fortunately the sub-conscience had control of my hands and already turned the engine off, turned the hazards on, and turned the radio down before the Fear took hold.

He approached, tapped on the car just behind the driver's side window and said, "Excuse me sir. I happened to notice that your tags are well past expired. Did you know that?"

Did I know that? Merciful God, the tags expired in February of '04. It was now June of '05, of course I knew that. He knew it. The people at the Seven-Eleven across the street knew it. BIRDS AND AIRLINERS AT 5000 FT. KNEW IT! I'd spent much of the year finding "better things" to spend my money on, swearing on each new pay check to get the car right. Besides, I was in Oklahoma, how would they tell anything was amiss? They don't have registration stickers like we Texans, for all they knew I was just passing through.

I managed for an answer a weak, "Uh, yessir. Yessir I did."

"Well. [sniff] Let me see your license and insurance."

Oh! Oh he knew. The stupid, frozen look on my face told him all he needed to know. This was the mother lode! Not only did he have a Texan with expired tags in his custody, but one driving in his town without insurance as well. Bored cops lust for these chance happenings; I was his dirty, yellow "Belle of the Ball".

"Uh, well sir. Here's my license, but I don't think this car has any insurance." Don't think? I knew it didn't. I won't say for how long it hadn't, but suffice it to say it'd been awhile. A long while. I hadn't realized just how long until the cop was standing there.

"This is my brother's car and I know I shouldn't be driving it but I had a meeting at work and just needed..." All prattle. Actually, that was a half truth. I knew I shouldn't have been driving it and technically the car was my brother's, but he'd given it to me a long, long time ago. I just hadn't changed the title and registration yet.

He lifted his eyebrows and smiled knowingly. "You don't have insurance? Do you know if he's insured it?"

"Uh, n-no sir." My fear-stink was undeniable.

"All right Mr. Jackson..." He took down some personal info and with my license headed back to his bike. I felt sick and self-abused. My conscience was raining down firey hail from on high. I had known about the Good Grace afforded me when it came to the car. The vehicle had been given freely as a gift from by brother and sister-in-law when I needed it most. There had been many opportunities to get things right on it, but so far, other than a tire and lube change, I failed to take advantage of them. And what had this encounter jepordized? What if my brother was to recieve some punishment for my inaction? How could I make that up to him? How was I going to finish school or go to work if they took the car away? What if I was arrested, how would that turn out? I'm no hardened criminal; they rape guys like me for sport in prison. The officer's return went unnoticed as my mind bent itself around these things.

"Okay, Mr. Jackson."

I sat bolt upright and braced for it. Would this hurt? And for how long?

"I'm going to let you go with a warning on the windshield, you need to get that crack fixed. And since I know you're new here and the rules are different in Texas, I'm going to let the tag issue go. Just so you know, in Oklahoma, any car with tags expired more than ninety days can be towed, so get it fixed quick. The insurance though is something I can't abide. You're going to have to pay for that one. Just show up in court by Monday with proof, and things should work out."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I kept blinking and nodding. This guy, for reasons explained only by Divine Providence, was practically letting me go! He could have ruined me right then and there and I had no defense. But he decided not to.

"Uh, yessir. I'll get all these issues addressed when I get home. Thank you sir." I was signing tickets and babling at the same time.

"So, what do you think of the traffic up here? It's a lot thinner than down in Houston isn't it? My brother used to live down there..."

I honestly don't remember the rest, what with the blood rushing in my ears. I wanted to take off, fly, get home quickly and figure out what had happened here. Needless to say, when I did get home, GEICO got a phone call. And so did the Texas DPS. It's going to cost me somewhere around $400 to get all this cleared up, since an added penalty for driving uninsured is a suspended license, but all things considered, I got off light. Not that I should have, I was guilty. But it's nice when a lesson can be learned gently with slap on the wrist, and not with a ball-peen hammer.

Emily

Here's another old writing I found in the closet about a girl I liked once. I've edited it a bit for grammar and the like. It's fitting I've found this now seeing as how similar feelings for a girl at work are rearing up- something I swore I wouldn't let an Oklahoma girl do! Great, another broken promise... enjoy!

I remember not really liking Dana Simpson much back in the second grade. She was a small, bossy little girl sporting pony tails and barrettes. She had thick eye brows which scrunched together when wrinkling her forehead. And wrinkled it stayed, along with nose held high in seeming disapproval of all the things the rest of us wore or did on the playground. I quietly named her the Queen of Hearts while she publicly dubbed me her friend by inviting only me to her house to play or watch T.V. This delighted Andy, Nathan and Matt who during recess made much of my apparent marriage. What did they know? Dana's parents had a VCR, I could watch "The Never Ending Story" over and over again while Mrs. Simpson stood at the ready with popcorn, candy, and soda.

"More M&M's, dear?" Yes ma'am!

If this was marriage, my parents were going about it the wrong way! Besides, what was all the excitement about? I know reports of these visits with her majesty made Elizabeth Whats-her-name act funny in class; she liked to hit me for seemingly no reason at all. As an eight year old, Dana came across as nothing more than a strange little boy with long hair, an unhealthy appetite for frilly things, and liked giving me food. What was the fuss?

The answer came late in the sixth grade. Puberty was in full swing and I was handling the changes with all the grace and style a twelve year old Air Force kid could muster. My hair was a wiry mess, but looked good under a black polyester yarn cap. Bumping desks, busting pant seams and hiding bad breath wrestled for a spot of normalcy in my daily routine. The sweating is what really bothered me though- even snow days failed to keep the pit puddles away. But the school year was almost over, only one month left and then came glorious Rocky Mountain freedom, with camping, hiking, and road trips a plenty. Nothing could spoil the anticipation. Nothing could make autumn seem so far off nor speed up the first day of school in seventh grade. Nothing, except the memory of a girl.

Emily was a tomboy who had a twin brother named Joe. She had long brown hair down to her shoulders, usually tucked behind her ears and brown eyes to match; Joe had short blond hair and blue eyes. They both liked soccer and she was good at the game. Secretly, she was the driving reason for my wanting to be the best center fullback the Lowry Lancers ever had. We had the same phys ed class and all the guys seemed to like her. After all, she was cute and when it came to dodge ball, 'Em' could do more than hold her own. She took a hit in the face once, bloodied her nose. She punched the guy that did it in the mouth. Strangely, this act of violence led to my spending the summer- and the next two years of my life!- in a strange, dreamy state. The rest of that month found me mute when trying to talk to her. Indeed, when I finally asked her to sign my yearbook, she simply wrote "Have fun, Emily Hencmann". Such a simple, non-committal statement, yet nothing had ever made my head swim like that. Paying attention in other classes felt like forced labor. The bus was far too slow in getting us to school, too quick to get us home at the end of the day. My friend Kevin took home a nicely colored bruise for having made fun of Em's new braces, in front of her no less; it was the least I could do.

I spent the rest of my time in Denver wondering why I felt this way about her and trying to deal with it. The emotion was something so pure and right; it had nothing to do with "The Talk" my father gave me in the upstairs bedroom far from the tender ears of my younger brothers. No, that was a mechanical, sweaty feeling which leaves one coated in hot-blooded embarrassment. This feeling was electric, teaming with the very excitement of life. I could never get enough! She sparked it - this was the answer, THIS was the 'fuss'.

I often wonder what I would tell Emily if we met today after all these years. My heart guards against the true possibilites of such a thing; time has a marring effect on reality. I also wonder whether or not I will ever feel like that again about anyone. Truth be told, similar feelings have come and gone since then; the chemical and hormonal imbalances of any eighteen year old male can induce such a state. High school and college held many of their own adventures in love, but nothing compares to that first time, not so far.

Who is that guy?

A little art work to go along with the blog. It speaks to me...

An Ode to Coffee

Here's a silly little tribute to a former favorite from a few years ago. This must have been during my computer years or that data entry job. I'm surprised I still had it laying around. I wonder what else I'd find if I finish going through all these boxes in my closet? Enjoy!

Coffee! What a wonderfully rich and pungent elixir it is! Its aroma seduces the sense of smell and awakens the hunger. It courses through a man's veins like glorious sun light, awakening the mind and speeding the heart. The warm glow stays in the belly only a short while, and leaves the body with relief. It is an inviting friend to all! For the rich, a status symbol, to the poor, a slight reprieve. For yuppies, a fad, to the working man, gasoline! "Hypertension", "Blood Pressure", "Stomach Ulcers": These are the catch phrases of the weak and feebleminded! They who would have us all live in a caffeine free world do not properly value our friend. Nor do they, in their current state, fully appreciate the Godsend that is the coffee bean. They are to be shunned, shot for treason!

So to you Juan Valdez, your silly burro, the thousands of Columbian peasants picking through fields of treasure, to customs agents and truckers named Joe, many thanks. I lift my cup to you and drink deep of the nectar you all work so hard to bring us!

...hm, needs sugar.

Whew...

What a month May was. Let's recap: a whiskey soaked trip to Vegas, Matt and Nikki's wonderful outdoor wedding in Galveston, a garter-less wedding reception with smooth margaritas, mounting school work (almost forty pages worth of graded papers written), new second job, new blog, Trusty's in Iraq, Jesse's having a son, Jeff's getting a kidney, I'm getting fat, a real life runaway bride gets busted, "Deep Throat" is revealed, and after twenty-two long, antagonizing years filled with anticipation bordering on idol worship- STAR WARS COMES TO AN END!

I need June to be calm and boring. Pray for rain...