Got pulled over on the highway the other day. That's always fun. One moment you're part of the crowd, heading home; then you're sitting in the Lane of Shame, wondering if the night ends with bread-and-water in lockup. Maybe they'll have that crusty artisanal bread with the garlic. Look on the bright side. I knew why I'd been stopped -- he'd stopped to investigate a stalled truck, and I couldn't move over as the law requires. Apparently it's not a courtesy! All these years I thought I was just being nice.
Your first instinct: Don't act suspicious. If, at that moment, a weasel bursts into your car and makes directly for your lap, ignore it, because they will think you're trying to hide something. Don't even mention the weasel. They know all about Sudden Weasel Syndrome. Put your hands at 10 and 2, and be Mr. Guilty Piece of Stone, Taxpayer. If I'd had any thoughts of questioning the stop, they vanished when I saw his name. MANHOOD. You do not question his MANHOOD.
While he checked my license, I immediately catastrophized: Maybe I'd gotten a parking ticket, someone had taken it off as a prank, I had a warrant, and it was bracelets and backseat-time for me. Should have worn loafers. They take your shoelaces. I'll have to curl my toes to keep my shoes on. When he came back I was starting to take off my belt just to save time, but he let me off with a warning, and I dissolved with gratitude. Usually this is where you get back on the road, drive with great care for 10 miles, then forget about it and go back to tailgating at 20 miles per hour above the speed limit. Isn't that just human nature? But man, I've learned my lesson. The law is the law. Unfortunately, traffic is so heavy I can't pull off the shoulder, and deadline is near, so I'm typing this on my phone.
Yes, I know, texting in the car is illegal, but c'mon.
jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 More daily at www.startribune.com/popcrush.
