I’m flying down the highway, Leonard Skinnard on the radio. Darn! There are flashing lights and a siren behind me.
I pull over and don an expression calculated to be both innocent and contrite. I’m hoping I’m not too old to be cute.
He looks about 40 years old. He doesn’t look too mean although he’s got on his cop game face.
“Officer, “Freebird” was playing on the radio.” I try not to overstate the obvious as I open my palms in a gesture that implies I have an understandable reason for speeding.
He says,” License and registration, please.”
“Really”, I say? “Surely you know this song!” I turn it up so he can hear it.
He just stares. He thinks I’m insane. He tells me he’ll be back and walks away to check me out on his cop computer. He doesn’t take the standard half hour intended as punishment though.
He comes back, leans in and hands me my papers.
“It’s a really good song”, he says.
“Next time stay inside the speed limit or pick another radio station. Have a good day.”