Tonight, while I was fastening Maggie into her car seat, Jonas crawled into the front seat and started pushing all of the buttons and tweaking the switches. By the time I got him into his seat the wipers and hazard lights were flashing before my eyes in tandem bursts of brightness and swishing. It took me almost a minute of frantic button pushing before I figured out how to turn it all off.

Right before I drove off I noticed that my brights were still on so I switched them off then began the drive home. Five blocks later, I see flashing lights in my rearview mirror. Thus begins the panic.

Are those for me? ME? Well, there’s no one else here. Maybe he’s on his way somewhere past me. I’ll just pull over. Oh no, it IS me! What did I do? Was I speeding? I don’t think I was speeding. I looked a few blocks ago and I was only at 40, maybe I got faster. . .oh no. I can’t afford a ticket right now! We just spent half the month’s salary on fixing the darn car I can’t handle a ticket right now. Oh my gosh, he’s going to want the registration. . .wait, we paid that - we’re ok there, but where oh where did Chris put it? I better get my licence out. And turn off the radio. Jeez, what is taking him so long?

At that point a very bright light was shined into my wild eyed, panic stricken face. I was shaking, and had I not just emptied my bladder prior to getting in the car I am sure I would have peed my pants just like a cowardly Shi Tzu. I could barely see the strawberry blonde, forty something, friendly looking officer through the beam.

“Did you just leave a parking lot?”

“Yes.” How could he tell? Did I do something wrong all the way back there?

“I see you turned your instrument lights on but not your headlights.”” Great, how much is a driving with no lights on ticket?

“Ohhh. My three year old was fiddling with stuff and I thought I had it all put back right, but I guess I didn’t. I’ve never been pulled over before, what do you need from me?” Oh fabulous, that sounded really intelligent.

“Let me see your licence.” I hand it to him. Oh pleeeease don’t ask for the registration. He looks at the licence and at me again, then at the kids in the back.

“You can calm down. You’re not in trouble.” He gives me a smile. “This happens a lot; I just want you to be safe.”
“Ok.” The violent trembling isn’t stopping.
“Have a nice night.”

Meanwhile I am SCREAMING inside from the sheer panic of it all. I drive home very, very carefully thinking about speed limits and silly things like keeping my hands at ten and two, and being very thankfully he didn’t take my shock, horror and panic at being pulled over as guilty panic, like “I have crack in my glove compartment, please throw me on the ground and frisk me” panic.

So. There it is. A line has been crossed. Seven years of driving and I finally get pulled over. Thankfully, we still have the ticket line to cross, and of course the being asked for the registration line. Hopefully the being thrown to the ground and frisked line will never come.