You Will Never Take Me Alive, Coppers!

I am so gangster you just have no idea.

Sunday morning a miracle occurred and I was actually early leaving out for the Bookstore. I was feeling good, well rested, a bit in awe of myself because, I think, this is the first time I have been early in awhile. I hopped in the car, cranked the radio up and off I went down the highway. I was even more pleased when You Sexy Thang came on the radio. For some reason I can not sit still when I hear this song and it also brings out the urge in me to sing. It seems that it also brings out the urge in me to press my foot down on the gas. So there I was, singing, car dancing and speeding down the road when I saw my worst nightmare heading in the other direction. There he was in all his red and white glory, one of St. Clair’s finest, ye ole sheriff.

Of course as soon as I spotted him I stopped dancing, slammed on the brakes, turned the radio down and started cussing. He had me. He had me flat out and he knew it. I watched as he slowly made his way over to the other lane and looked for a place to whip a U-turn. Now here is where I lost my mind. Since he knew he got me and I knew he got me and the truck in front of me knew he got me I decided to cut the poor guy a break and not make him chase me down. I decided that it would be just as easy for him to give me a ticket in the rest area as it would on the side of the road that way he would not have to walk on the highway. See, I was being thoughtful.

I pulled into the rest area and down into the car park area. I went ahead and wrestled my license out of my wallet and was in the process of getting my insurance card out of my glove box when I saw Sir Sheriff pull in to the rest area. I admit that my heart was beating a mile a minute and that I was not looking forward to having to deal with this so early on a Sunday morning but he had got me so I braced myself. The red and white cruiser pulled slowly into the rest area. I watched his every move in my rear view mirror and desperately tried not to make eye contact. The car slowed as it went passed the parked cars. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. (I think I might have pee’d my pants a little too) Closer and closer he got to me and I was sweating bullets. As I watched he pulled up right behind me….


Then slowly slid past. WTF??? YOOOOUUUUHOOOOO Mr. Ye Old Sheriff, here I am!!! I felt like waving my hands to get his attention…. but I didn’t. I just sat there watching him looking at all the other cars that were parked. As he made his way out of the rest area and took off down the highway I was dazed and confused. Did I just pull a sneaky? Did this actually work? Is he tricking me? When I pull out on the highway is he going to be sitting there with a big ole Sheriff’s grin and a huge ticket because I’m a dumbass? Oh so many questions were whipping around in my head. So many questions, in fact, that I didn’t take a chance on moving for a good 10 minutes just in case. So many questions, in fact again, that when I did move I did it at a very slow rate of speed. There was also no singing or seat dancing going on just a constant chant of, “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you” coming from my car.

Now here is the good news/bad news thing. The good news is I ducked out of a ticket that I could not afford but the bad news was I was 15 minutes late for the Bookstore. Im pretty sure as I clocked in I heard this voice chuckling and saying, “No matter how hard you try you will never be on time.”

Pulling my fedora low down low and striking that laid back gangster pose. It's ok universe, bring it on. Just call me Babyface Flynn!