Sunday, 16 March 2008

Me and Martha


I feel like Martha Stewart -- not a line I get to use very often since I am casually dressed, underdecorated and generally happy in my imperfections. But I too know what it is to be spanked by the law. For the next week I am without a car.
Let me paint the picture. Yesterday afternoon was sunny and warmish -- almost glorious for Southern Ontario this winter. I was tooling along the backroads going, yes, a bit too fast -- over 100 kms/hr in an 80 zone. And in the middle of a long straight stretch the posted speed limit dropped to 50 kms/hr because a small town was coming up (I never saw the sign, but they assured me it was there), and the cops were waiting with the radar gun that said I was suddenly doing over 100 in a 50 zone.
I've never liked guns of any kind.
50 kms over the speed limit means I am guilty of what they call stunt driving (sounds cool, eh? Don't be fooled). They took my car and licence for a week, and gave me a court date for next month. I had to wait an hour by the side of the road, while the tow truck hauled away the other cars caught in this sting, but that didn't matter since I was no longer going anywhere.
So here I sit, in a small town without public transport, thinking of all the things I used to need a car for. The biggest is driving my kids around. My Dad job for the last few years has been Chauffeur. (You can track your kids' development by your job title. I've spent time as a Diaper Changer, Playtime Supervisor, Paymaster, Dictionary, and Jailer. I am still a sitting judge in the court of Not fair!) My kids who can't drive need me to drive them, and those who can need my car to drive. And for the next week they can't have either.
I'm lucky I don't have to drive to work. My commute is about forty feet -- down the hall and upstairs to my office. I'm supposed to make a speech at a school next week, but I can put them off. For most of my movement needs I can count on trains, cabs and friends. But I am letting down my kids, and that hurts.
I understand that Martha raises miniature donkeys. I wonder if she worried about them when she went to jail? More on this tomorrow -- Day 2 of my sentence.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow. Richard Scrimger, Cautionary Tale, hee hee. I guess I'll have to watch out, since I have the same bat-out-of-hell driving style. It would really suck standing on the side of the road with four small children, explaining that I'd just been bitch-slapped by the law. Now go to your room and think about what you've done!
Carol

Richard Scrimger said...

Laughter is always appreciated. Even if I can't drive you all anyplace, at least I can still make you laugh.RS

Marilyn said...

Kind of severe consequences. Couldn't they
have just given you a ticket and a warning?
Maybe if you had offered them cereal, they would have been nicer. They might have cereal mixing problems at home too.

Richard Scrimger said...

Johnny Law doesn't eat cereal. He's a double-double and a chocolate glaze kind of a guy. RS

Anonymous said...

Let Norbert speak next. If you're a repeat offender there will be motive/opportunity another day. That's not trading in on his celebrity. Small town radar has outdated voice recognition software calibrated to triage way bigger thugs (not to egg on this dark side of yours. Course not.) They get straight through to The Boss. A baritone "Well, hello." can be heard through the thickest copper's helmet. You'll get laughed at, yes. Norbert's disarming when he's being charming. Sand

Richard Scrimger said...

I just dont know if Norbert could keep his temper. Once you start calling police officers names, it's over. RS