|Oh, sure. She's smiling now . . .|
There are about thirty miles of smooth, fast highway between Claresholm and Fort MacLeod, Alberta.
And Mom was a strict teetotaler.
These two facts will become significant.
Later . . .
Mom was heading home.
She had been out running errands and attending meetings and doing various ‘Mom’ things and supper was beckoning.
Another ‘Mom’ thing.
She was also DUI(C).
Driving under the influence of children.
Between glances into the backseat and numerous yoga-moves to reach and supply her various and sundry children’s needs, her concentration on the road, and her straight-driving-ness (my term), were sorely hampered.
From time to time, the car . . . wove.
Said weaving was noticed.
A flashing light appeared in the rear-view mirror.
Mom frowned. A ‘what-on-earth-is-this-about?’ frown.
And pulled over.
A young policeman appeared at her window.
“Ma’am, I couldn’t help but notice that you were weaving a bit in the lane,” he said. “Have you been drinking?”
Mom sucked in a deep, indignant breath and glared at the young man. “I SHOULD SAY NOT!!” she said.
Her voice was . . . let’s just say ‘firm’.
With just a bit of fire behind the words.
The poor policeman turned red and literally crumbled. “Sorry to have bothered you,” he mumbled. Then, bidding her a hasty good-night, he left.
Or rather, retreated.
Mom nodded resolutely and, putting the car in gear, continued on.
The police car made a U-turn and fled.
The reason I’m thinking about this right now?
Where was Mom when another young policeman was handing me my speeding ticket for doing 40 in a 30?
I guess some people have it.
And some people don’t.