Road Legal

I have invented a new traffic violation. DUC. Driving Under the influence of Children.

As some of you may know, the transmission in our Suburban has, after weeks of failing health, officially committed Sudoku. Or something like that. The boys and I had gone to Walmart for a day of high class shopping, when it started to make funny noises. I rationalized said noises as being a product of the cold weather and high winds, because I am a mechanic, and went to church that night anyway. I guess that turned out to be a blessed decision, because that meant that when the transmission kicked it, our friend/babysitter/guardian angel Susan K. was right behind us on the road. Long story short (too late), we managed to limp it home with Susan following, and when we got there, she rolled down her car window and said, "I already called Wayne (her husband) and he said it was fine if you borrow this car for a while, so I'll pick you up in the morning and then you can drive it home after work tomorrow." Now you see why I call her my guardian angel.

So, with extreme gratitude, I took her up on her offer and have been driving her car for a little over a week. I've been trying not to drive it any more than necessary, but last Friday night, after work, I decided to make a run to Tractor Supply and Kohls to do some Christmas details. Don't ask. Well, a couple of details turned into ten minutes in Tractor Supply, then one hour at the Gerbil Tubes, then heaven-only-knows how long at Kohls, then, finally, Meijer. It was about 10:30 when we started home, which, in our second-shift life, is not too too late. But I was tired, and my hair was standing up in spikes from my fingers running through it, and Abe was uttering intermittant shrieks and giggles, with Charlie alternately making faces at him and hitting him with things...

Good times.

On top of this, the car was still unfamiliar. It has more quiet power than what I'm used to, as well as slightly squishy steering. So I was snarking at the kids, babysitting the speedometer, driving one-handed to point out pretty Christmas lights, and going cross-eyed about the time we passed Grant's Lick. And,  you probably guessed it, on go the pretty lights in the rearview mirror.

So I pulled over, thankful that at least I did not have the breast pump going... which is something I admit I often do while driving. Wouldn't that cop have been surprised? I was so chagrinned that I didn't notice that Charlie's immediate reaction to being pulled over was to take off his seatbelt. Excellent choice.

Kentucky's Finest leaned down to peer with his flashlight in my driver's side window, and I completely forgot what I had planned to say, because the first words out of his mouth were, "I think I know what the problem is."

Good grief.

He went on to tell me he'd pulled me over because I was "weaving pretty bad on him" and asked if the car was mine, to which I answered that I was borrowing it from a friend. Then he asked for my ID. Igg! "It's here somewhere," I said, then proceeded to excavate it out from the pile of coats, diaper bags, shopping bags, and general chaos in the passenger seat. He gave it a cursory glance, told us to be careful, told Charlie to put on his seatbelt, then let us go. Thank God highway patrolmen don't like to give tickets to chubby, harried-looking women with two small children in the back seat. As we pulled back onto the road, I told Charlie (quite calmly, I might add) that if Mommy ever got pulled over again, he had to keep his seatbelt on because Mommy could get a ticket just because he had it off. To this he replied, "I thought you were going to get arrested!"

My work is done here.