As a person who has no job, no schedule, and very few commitments of any kind, it's essential that I drive ridiculously fast so as not to waste any of the 11 waking hours at my disposal on any given day. I average around 40 miles per hour, but that number goes up considerably if I'm out for more than 20 minutes.
I live on a dead end road, so to go anywhere I have to first get on a road charmingly called I-99 Frontage. The speed limit on this road is 40 miles per hour, which I take to mean that I should drive no more than 40 miles per hour faster than the traffic on the highway next to me. After all, Einstein proved that all motion is relative, so who's to say how fast I'm "really" driving? And of course Heisenberg demonstrated that you can't know where you are and how fast you're traveling at the same time, which means that any cop who has pinpointed my velocity doesn't have a chance in hell of catching me.
I tried to explain this to the cop who pulled me over a few months ago. "Do you know how fast you were driving?" he asked. "No," I said cheerfully, "But I know exactly where I am!"*
He was kind enough not to ticket me for speeding, letting me off with a stern lecture about blind corners, stopping distances, and -- I think -- something about the Romulan neutral zone. Thank God they don't test you for ADD when they give you your driver's license. Anyway, he did that cop thing where they find some innocuous offense to give you a ticket for that you didn't even know was illegal, because they feel sorry for you and don't really feel like hauling your ass to jail for attempting to outrace the earth's rotation. They might, for example, give you a ticket for driving under the influence of 18th century romantic poetry, or having one eyelash too few. In my case, I got a "repair and report" ticket for not having a front license plate.
(Aside: Who knew you even needed a front license plate? I thought the front license plate was an optional thing, like voting or registering for Selective Service.)
In point of fact, I did have a front license plate. It was in the back of my car, under the carpet and a pile of 4" ABS pipe fittings, where admittedly it would be difficult to see from a distance. I didn't tell the nice cop about this because (1) I didn't want him to have to ticket me for something more egregious, such as Misuse of General Relativity for Personal Gain (I believe that's a "one-eight-niner" in police lingo); and (2) I had forgotten it was there.
I was given 30 days to "repair" the problem and "report" to the proper authorities. It took me roughly 29 days to repair the problem, the "repair" process consisting of the following steps:
Days 1-21 Denial
Day 22 "Where the hell is that license plate? Hey, I bet it's still in the back of my car!"
Days 23-25 Procrastination
Day 26 Attach license plate
Day 27-28 Procrastination
Day 29 Go to police station to have a cop sign the ticket
So you can see, I just made it under the wire. Then, unfortunately, I spent another 68 days in denial about the "report" part, which would have consisted of simply showing up at the court office to display the newly autographed ticket. During this period various "courtesy" notices began arriving in the mail, courteously informing me of the myriad fees, fines, levies and dams (as in, "dam, that's a big levy") that had been added to the original ticket amount of $10. Warren Buffet couldn't have turned $10 into $425 that fast. The main thing that had been added was a "Failure to Appear" charge, which makes it sound like there was a courtroom full of people with nothing to do but twiddle their thumbs while they anxiously awaited for me to show up. "What time did he say he would be here?" they fret. "Should we call?"
So finally I went to the court office to pay the fines. A lady in a forest green blouse sat behind the window. As I began to explain my situation, she stood up and another woman in what appeared to be exactly the same blouse took her place. "We're switching," said the second woman.
"Ok, well you're wearing the same shirt, so this should be an easy transition," I said.
I got the feeling that I wasn't the first one to point this out to them that day. Note to self: Do not immediately alienate someone who may have discretion over whether you have to pay several hundred dollars in fines.
Anyway, I showed them my "courtesy notice" and there was some discussion about whether they could reduce the amount or not. It turned out that they could not, but I had the option of going to court to get the amount reduced. It sounded like all you had to do was show up and you were pretty much guaranteed to get the amount knocked down quite a bit. Evidently Woody Allen was right: 90% of life is just showing up. I thought for a moment. "How long does that usually take?" I asked. Because again, I'm a busy, busy man. Places to go, things to do. I can't be sitting around for 2 hours just to save a few hundred bucks.
I was assured that it usually went quite fast. So I said ok, and they said that I needed to show up at 8:30 next Wednesday to put my name on the list for the afternoon. I didn't ask why I couldn't just put my name on the list now, as it presumably had something to do with the fact that persons of my unsavory character couldn't be trusted to keep an appointment without being forced to physically drag our asses down there first thing in the morning to demonstrate that we were still alive and reasonably sober.
"At the very least, you should be able to clear up that Failure to Appear," said Ms. Greenshirt. Yes, I thought. One might think I had cleared it up already by in fact appearing. Whatever. I didn't mind appearing again. I'm pretty good at appearing. Sometimes I appear seven or eight times a day without even knowing it. I can even appear drunk or hungover if I need to. I believe that sort of thing is generally frowned upon in the courtroom, though, so I resolved to appear sober.
I went home and worked on my legal strategy. This consisted of falling on the mercy of the court, invoking the fifth commandment, and something about the Romulan neutral zone, I think. I was pretty hammered.
Wow, this is a long story. I've decided to grant your request for a continuation. See you on Friday.
I always appear sober on humor-blogs.com.
*I didn't actually say this. In fact, I didn't even make up this joke. It may seem odd to steal a joke that virtually no one will get, but isn't that the kind of shiftless irrationality that makes one truly original?
I live on a dead end road, so to go anywhere I have to first get on a road charmingly called I-99 Frontage. The speed limit on this road is 40 miles per hour, which I take to mean that I should drive no more than 40 miles per hour faster than the traffic on the highway next to me. After all, Einstein proved that all motion is relative, so who's to say how fast I'm "really" driving? And of course Heisenberg demonstrated that you can't know where you are and how fast you're traveling at the same time, which means that any cop who has pinpointed my velocity doesn't have a chance in hell of catching me.I tried to explain this to the cop who pulled me over a few months ago. "Do you know how fast you were driving?" he asked. "No," I said cheerfully, "But I know exactly where I am!"*
He was kind enough not to ticket me for speeding, letting me off with a stern lecture about blind corners, stopping distances, and -- I think -- something about the Romulan neutral zone. Thank God they don't test you for ADD when they give you your driver's license. Anyway, he did that cop thing where they find some innocuous offense to give you a ticket for that you didn't even know was illegal, because they feel sorry for you and don't really feel like hauling your ass to jail for attempting to outrace the earth's rotation. They might, for example, give you a ticket for driving under the influence of 18th century romantic poetry, or having one eyelash too few. In my case, I got a "repair and report" ticket for not having a front license plate.
(Aside: Who knew you even needed a front license plate? I thought the front license plate was an optional thing, like voting or registering for Selective Service.)
In point of fact, I did have a front license plate. It was in the back of my car, under the carpet and a pile of 4" ABS pipe fittings, where admittedly it would be difficult to see from a distance. I didn't tell the nice cop about this because (1) I didn't want him to have to ticket me for something more egregious, such as Misuse of General Relativity for Personal Gain (I believe that's a "one-eight-niner" in police lingo); and (2) I had forgotten it was there.
I was given 30 days to "repair" the problem and "report" to the proper authorities. It took me roughly 29 days to repair the problem, the "repair" process consisting of the following steps:
Days 1-21 Denial
Day 22 "Where the hell is that license plate? Hey, I bet it's still in the back of my car!"
Days 23-25 Procrastination
Day 26 Attach license plate
Day 27-28 Procrastination
Day 29 Go to police station to have a cop sign the ticket
So you can see, I just made it under the wire. Then, unfortunately, I spent another 68 days in denial about the "report" part, which would have consisted of simply showing up at the court office to display the newly autographed ticket. During this period various "courtesy" notices began arriving in the mail, courteously informing me of the myriad fees, fines, levies and dams (as in, "dam, that's a big levy") that had been added to the original ticket amount of $10. Warren Buffet couldn't have turned $10 into $425 that fast. The main thing that had been added was a "Failure to Appear" charge, which makes it sound like there was a courtroom full of people with nothing to do but twiddle their thumbs while they anxiously awaited for me to show up. "What time did he say he would be here?" they fret. "Should we call?"
So finally I went to the court office to pay the fines. A lady in a forest green blouse sat behind the window. As I began to explain my situation, she stood up and another woman in what appeared to be exactly the same blouse took her place. "We're switching," said the second woman.
"Ok, well you're wearing the same shirt, so this should be an easy transition," I said.
I got the feeling that I wasn't the first one to point this out to them that day. Note to self: Do not immediately alienate someone who may have discretion over whether you have to pay several hundred dollars in fines.
Anyway, I showed them my "courtesy notice" and there was some discussion about whether they could reduce the amount or not. It turned out that they could not, but I had the option of going to court to get the amount reduced. It sounded like all you had to do was show up and you were pretty much guaranteed to get the amount knocked down quite a bit. Evidently Woody Allen was right: 90% of life is just showing up. I thought for a moment. "How long does that usually take?" I asked. Because again, I'm a busy, busy man. Places to go, things to do. I can't be sitting around for 2 hours just to save a few hundred bucks.
I was assured that it usually went quite fast. So I said ok, and they said that I needed to show up at 8:30 next Wednesday to put my name on the list for the afternoon. I didn't ask why I couldn't just put my name on the list now, as it presumably had something to do with the fact that persons of my unsavory character couldn't be trusted to keep an appointment without being forced to physically drag our asses down there first thing in the morning to demonstrate that we were still alive and reasonably sober.
"At the very least, you should be able to clear up that Failure to Appear," said Ms. Greenshirt. Yes, I thought. One might think I had cleared it up already by in fact appearing. Whatever. I didn't mind appearing again. I'm pretty good at appearing. Sometimes I appear seven or eight times a day without even knowing it. I can even appear drunk or hungover if I need to. I believe that sort of thing is generally frowned upon in the courtroom, though, so I resolved to appear sober.
I went home and worked on my legal strategy. This consisted of falling on the mercy of the court, invoking the fifth commandment, and something about the Romulan neutral zone, I think. I was pretty hammered.
Wow, this is a long story. I've decided to grant your request for a continuation. See you on Friday.
I always appear sober on humor-blogs.com.
*I didn't actually say this. In fact, I didn't even make up this joke. It may seem odd to steal a joke that virtually no one will get, but isn't that the kind of shiftless irrationality that makes one truly original?
Labels: Anecdotes, Driving, Exemplary Police Work
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I hope you don't actually drive like a Ferengi getting an ear rub. The Romulans don't like that, but if you rear-end a Klingon warship, I guarantee you that you'll be pulling tribbles out of your ass for months. (Not that I speak from experience or anything).
I laughed until the shock of recognition kicked in and I remembered some of my own unanswered correspondence with the NYC Dept of Finance. Damn them, expecting answers within a certain timeframe - they know my weakness!
Was it the Romulan neutral zone? Yeah, I missed it.
I wish I had something really clever to say since I got the first comment.
I was laughing my arse off over your schedule of taking care of the ticket-Work does expand to fill the time given.
I wish you really could say all of the stuff that you thought, but then you again if you did, you wouldn't have written this because you would be sitting in the clink for being a smart ass with the cop.
Great post! Have a nice day
oh and remember
Machiavelli proposed that only the appearance of good is necessary in the Prince, so no worries.
I thought I was first dooop!
I apprear to be stupid!
Great story. I got nailed for $100 last year because my tabs were expired.
Ok, they were expired by 4 months, but still.
I think if you had countered the officer with the finer points of the neutral zone trap, he would have relented on that license plate ticket.
One of our more potentially expensive "fix it" moments came courtesy of Mr. Logo's OCD.
Before affixing the tabs he wanted to wash the car. The weather was not conducive for a while so whe I got pulled over for it they were still sitting in the glove box attached to the registration. The cop (I might have requested it) wrote him a little note about the world's most expensive car wash.
Also,
as someone who steadfastly refuses to admit to any form of geekdom I cannot acknowlege any Star Trek humor.
Darn those Romulans! I think we all need cloaking devices.
You should move out here to the god-forsaken plains. If the police don't have to actually discharge their weapon during the traffic stop, they generally just give you a warning ticket. A warning ticket is a piece of paper you sign that says you can verify that the cop was actually making traffic stops and not just sleeping in his car behind the billboard.
Now I know why they made us study the Heisenberg uncertainty principle in high school, so we could understand the joke that Diesel pinched. Some advice: a good way to save money is not getting pulled over, so either you need to go faster or actually respect the speed limit (my bet is you'll go with the first, am I right?)
A good excuse to give for not appearing in court: "This time I knew exactly how fast I was going, but had no idea where I was."
I'm sure that's what we all see in you, Diesel, your 'shiftless irrationality'. Hee.
Where I live, you don't have to have a front plate, just a back plate. People have all sorts of weird things in the front plate spot.
I'm sure you'll come up with a great legal strategy. I suck, I can't even get mercy from a female judge. I resolve to never run a red light again.
Einstein proved that all motion is relative, so who's to say how fast I'm "really" driving?
i wonder if, with the proper jargon and papers to back it up they would let you off just to get rid of you?
Sometimes I appear seven or eight times a day without even knowing it. I can even appear drunk or hungover if I need to. I believe that sort of thing is generally frowned upon in the courtroom, though, so I resolved to appear sober.
this is only exciting if you can also disappear!
To obtain a driving licence here, you need to be either gifted, or very rich. I eventually got this sought after slip of paper after my 22nd birthday. Sadly, I promptly lost it again before my 23rd, along with two hundred quids worth of fines..
Now I've moved from London to the sleepy Isle of Man, hell, - I CAN DO WHAT I LIKE!! They can't afford a proper police force, kids can pass their test at 16 (first time), and nobody gives a damn if you slam up against their tractor.. (they're real neighboury around these parts)
Happy days.
Don't let Mrs. Greenshirt and her cohorts push you around. See if you can take that fine to the next level; four digits. It's only money and it'll really feel satisfying, unless they toss you in the clink.
Then again, maybe you should just show up and take your financial licks.
Good luck, either way.
Malnurtured Snay - Umm, ok.
G - I know, it's ridiculous. They should know that we're not going to get around to these things until we're good and ready.
Wreckless - I'm not sure if I can appear good. At least not sober.
Harmonica Man - Been there too. Except it was 6 months.
FuriousBall - That appears to be sports-related.
Logo - Admitting it is the first step.
Goldstein - My other car is a Klingon Bird of Prey.
Spookyrach - That sounds delightful.
Theresa - I like the way you think.
Robin - People have weird front license plates here too. Which is kinda why I thought it was optional. I guess they're cracking down on it now.
Curiosity Killer - Me too. I mean, unless I'm in a hurry.
Bluepaintedred - I can't disappear, but I can go 0-60 in 6 seconds.
The Isle of Man sounds a lot like Ripon. Actually, there's a Ripon, England too. I wonder what that's like. Anyway, lately I've been spending more money on gas for my tractor than for my car.
Linusmann - You'll be able to read the exciting conclusion on Friday. Assuming you think me standing in line at a teller window is exciting.
Great post.
signed "Virtually No one"
A long time ago, I lived in a state that didn't require front license plates. I drove a car registered in a state that did require front license plates. The judge didn't think this was a valid reason to not have the plate on the front of my car. I got a ticket.
I hate waiting around also. I have things to see and people to do! (yes you read that right)
This is a good post, very funny dude.
I don't see no stinking license plate in that picture either. What's up with that?
We are the WORST about answering something in a timeframe! It's almost as though the sheet is challenging us!
I hope you can weasel out of some of the fees! Good luck!
dude, you are where you are when you get there. or don't get there -- because wherever you are, that's where you... are. brillaint, no?
last time a cop asked me if i knew how fast i was driving, and i said "no", he said it was something like 73 in a 35 -- which i knew was a lie from the pits of hell) -- but i smiled sheepishly and said "well damn! not only do i deserve a ticket, you should haul my ass off to jail!" he chuckled, as he realized his clever ploy to trap me into admitting my lie had failed miserably, and let me off with a stern warning. (moral: forget trying to appear "sober" and shoot for stupid. works for me every time!) xox
I tried to invoke the fifth commandment once, but my parents SO do not understand me sometimes.
"What time did he say he would be here?" they fret. "Should we call?"
That's funny stuff Diesel.
Diesel - You'll regret implying you needed clarification.
Driving like a Ferengi getting an ear rub? For Ferengi, their ears are very sexual - it's like I said "driving like you're getting a blow job." See?
You don't have a job???? Can I have your life?
ROFLMFAO. Who knew I had a doppelganger of the opposite sex? Now I can feel hilariously better about slacking off.
I knew it! You have that serial-killer, failing-to-appear sort of squint in your eyes.
You know, it never occurred to me before that your car looks kinda like the Enterprise.
Way to violate the Prime Directive, Captain.
P.S. The only time I ever got a speeding ticket was the last time I went to California.
You are not speeding if there are still cars in front of you.
And if you drive fast enough while headed due west, you'll appear to be standing still as the earth rotates underneath you. So, next time just tell the officer that you were going faster and faster in an effort to stop moving. (Although I think if you actually go that fast, time stops and you fall off the planet ... or something.)
Anonymous - Thanks. At least you got it.
Mist1 - So... you can't drive through any states that require a front license plate??
MacBros - Yeah, I drove for 7 years without it, and nobody ever said anything before.
Queen - Thanks. You'll find out tomorrow.
Neva - You sound like you're a little too good at that.
Joel - I'm pretty sure you're the only one who caught that.
TDB - Thanks, man.
Snay - You'll regret clarifying your implication. I just wanted to say that.
IZ - No. I have the best life ever, and you can't have it.
Anonymous - Which anonymous are you again? I'm getting confused.
Sher - You're next on my list. My not-appearing list.
Glacial Spain - Yes, it was just after I made fun of you for driving so slow as I recall.
Jami - This planet isn't all it's cracked up to be anyway.
I knew someone who took a corner too fast and flipped his car. He got a ticket for an illegal lane change. He said to me, "Apparently it's illegal to change lanes while sliding on the roof of your car."
I am driving around in IL with a NC plate that expired in March and an inspection sticker that expired June of 2006! Pulling over is not an option.
Lame test, but I'll just chuckle about the Romulan Neutral Zone. (Sorry to all, I'm an early poster on Diesel's site who's had troubles posting for a while).
-wolfe