Why I don't like Kentucky -

I don't consider myself a Saint, and not only because I am not Catholic. I'm just not a very good guy sometimes.

Still, I DID NOT belong in the back of POLICE CAR this time! Sure, there were other times I probably did belong there and wasn't, but not THIS time.

I was minding my own business, lost in thought as I was driving to my grandmother's house. You see, some of us family decided to help her with yard work and cleaning out the gutters of her roof on this fine autumn day in October. Very noble, I know, I already patted myself on the back.

Well, it must have been when I was patting myself on the back when I did a "rolling stop" for that stop sign I just passed, because Mr. County Sheriff took offense. Lights flash, I notice them in my mirrors, and I pull over. As far as I knew, I wasn't OJ, so I wasn't real worried. The officers take a moment (presumably to run my plates) and then both of them (you see, he had a partner, lucky me) come out to greet me. The driver cop explains why he pulled me over, asks for my license and registration and walks back to the car. I'm a little nervous, but mostly just annoyed they bothered to pull me over for a rolling stop. Don't they have anything better to do on a nice autumn weekend day?

Apparently so - since they came back out of the car without a ticket. As they walk up, I am beginning to hope I'm just getting a warning. Silly me. It's about this time that I notice a dark red Sentra pass me and don't really think again on it. Thankfully, that Sentra will be back. Anyway, the driver cop has a hand on his gun, makes it a point to be a few steps from the door, and asks me in a fairly direct manner, "Sir, do you know why your license would be suspended?"

*blink*

"What?"

"Your license is suspended, sir, do you know why?"

"Uhhh... (crap, I didn't forget to pay any tickets did I? I hadn't had one in quite some time) no reason I can think of."

"Please step out of the car sir?"

"What?"

"Step out of the car."

At this point I am in a minor stupor. Lost in my thoughts, driving to engage in some productive family time, I hadn't really expected police offers to play an integral part of my immediate future. So, I get out of the car. They proceed to take me to the passenger side of their car and have me place my hands on the side of the car as they do a quick weapons search.

I'm coming around a bit- "Uh, is there anyway you guys can check into this more?"

"Do you have any unpaid tickets you know of?"

"No, I thought about that."

"When's the last time you received a ticket?"

"Well, back in March, when I was coming back from Houston and had to be here in less than two days. I got a ticket just outside of Louisville. But I remember paying that ticket." The reader begins to see where the problem is...

"Well, maybe it's something else, we are trying to get more information."

I hit minor panic mode here as my brain scampers through the last year of my life - did I get another ticket? I had more than a couple wild nights out, but I'm pretty sure I would have remembered a ticket. No, I couldn't have, it must be that damned Kentucky ticket.

So, what to do? Well, this is where it's nice to have family. While I am estranged to most of my mother's side of the family, I remember my uncle (maybe more on the "why" of that estrangement in some other post, but it has little to do with me or this post). What was his job? He just so happened to be a County Sheriff as well. Well, at least he was the last I remembered, it had been sometime since I had spoken to him. I gave it a shot -

"Hey, you guys know M___?"

"Yeah, we know him."

"He's my uncle, good guy."

"M___ is your uncle?"

"Yup."

"Ok."

That was it. Meanwhile, they finished the weapons search and handcuffed me behind my back. Next, they took an inventory of the possessions in my pockets and had me take a seat in the back of the car. They get into the front and are fairly quiet, explaining they are still trying to figure things out.

About 10 minutes later, I see another police car pull up behind them. Greaaat. How bad was this going to get. The road wasn't that busy. Was it times for Cops Gone Wild? I wasn't sure. But of course, being handcuffed for no apparent reason will do that to your imagination. The reader will have likely surmised that it was my uncle and, indeed, it was. Phew!

They get out of the car as he does and chat with him outside of hearing distance. I wonder what the hell they are telling him. He comes up to their car, without them, and leans over to my side.

"Dude, what the heck is going on?"

"Beats me, they say my license is suspended and it's an arrestable offense."

"Did you not pay a ticket?" You can sense the theme.

"Not that I know of."

"This is a quite mess here. It's good to see you, but not like this." He chuckles a bit.

"Tell me about it."

"Well, I can get you out of this arrest, but they already wrote you a ticket."

Relief! I exhale, "That's cool."

"But they can't let you drive your car."

"I have family on my dad's side just up the road a ways, can I call them."

"Ya better, and get this taken care of!"

"Thanks a lot, M___, sorry for this."

"That's alright, just get it taken care of." He smiles, chats with the officers and they take the cuffs off. M___ leaves and the other officers allow me to call for a ride.

I call my dad, who should only be 5 minutes down the road. Thankfully he is, and they are on their way. Turns out, that dark red Sentra was my dad and step mom. They had noticed the police car, but failed to notice my car, or me in it. I have an excuse - I was being interrogated! You would have thought they would look more closely to see what was happening. Lord knows that's the number one excuse for rubber-neckers.

Anyway, they give me a lift and take my car to my grandmother's. A good story is told. Meanwhile, all it took me was about 10 minutes in phone calls the following Monday to learn that it WAS that damned Kentucky ticket. They never notified the DMV that the ticket was paid and I was nearly incarcerated as a result. A couple faxes later, and the issue was resolved, but not without event.

I was fortunate my uncle happened to be working. He only works that zone two times a week, so the odds were against me. I suppose this lends support to my one friend's assertion that I am both the luckiest AND unluckiest person he knows.