I received my first speeding ticket yesterday. I cried… a lot.
There’s no feeling like a speeding ticket. It’s that last minute glance to the side of the road, seeing the cop, automatically taking your foot off the gas pedal whilst looking at the speedometer. Then, for a split second, you think you might be okay, but then you see him get on the road and flash those lights directly behind you… I think everyone internally screams, “Noooo!”
So, yes, I cried. I was a sad little mess. I didn’t know where the insurance card was. I didn’t even know where to look. I simply cried while he looked through the glove department. When he did find it, ten minutes later, it was expired. “The new insurance card must have been at home in unopened mail!” I cried more.
He said everything was going to be okay. I just needed to settle down, drive slower, and drive safely. After handing me a dreaded yellow bill of $241, he sped off.
I don’t want to tell anyone. I’m so ashamed. Yet, in true Stacy form, I tell everyone who asks how I am. It just seems like such a huge deal right now, but I know soon I’ll barely remember it. Well, I will, but not in the melodramatic way I do now.
The first person I told was my father.
He said: “In ten years you won’t care.”
Me: “You mean in ten citations?”
He: “Oh Jesus.”