Official Welcome
I have moved out to an island. Yes. I know. And, no, it's not like that. I had no idea the assumptions people would make when they find out where I live. Sure, the rent is a bit more than had I stayed in downtown Seattle (ick. So not an option. As it turns out, I like small towns.), but not too much. I'm sure I will go on and on and on about the island soon enough, so I'll just get right to the point.
Last night, as I was hurrying to a church activity I came over a hill a bit too fast and started breaking. However, I either didn't break hard enough, or soon enough, because I was pulled over by our city's finest.
He approached the car and asked the usual question, "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
"Probably because I came over the top of the hill a bit fast?"
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
"Honestly, no. As soon as I came over the hill I felt that I was going too fast and started breaking, so I'm not really sure how fast I was going."
"I clocked you at 42." (that's miles per hour, Laziest. ;) )
"Uh. Ok."
"Do you know what the speed limit is on this road?"
Well, let's think. Clearly it's under 42, eh? In all actuality, the likelihood that the speed limit was 35 was about 99%, so I opted for that choice. "35." I replied, knowingly.
"Actually, it's 30 here." Then he took a look at my license and such. That is, my Utah license. I never thought I'd be genuinely thankful for a Utah license over a California one, until that moment. "Do you live here, on the Island?" He asked.
"Yes. I do."
"How long have you lived out here?"
"Uh, 10 ... 11 days, maybe."
"Ok. I'm going to go make some notes to myself, I'll be right back." And with that, he walked back to his car.
20 years later he came back and returned my license. Then he told me, "Just be aware, we do a lot of traffic out on the Island. If you haven't been pulled over, you haven't been here long. Just keep in within about 5 of the speed limit and you should be fine." Can you believe he actually told me that? I thought those rules were unwritten and passed on as sage advice from parent to child through the generations. However, you can be sure I was thankful for the information. You never know for sure where your leniency ends. I took the opportunity (since he was in a generous mood anyway) to ask how long I have to change my license over — it's 45 days, in case you care. With that he said, in a friendly official tone, "Oh, and welcome to the Island."
Last night, as I was hurrying to a church activity I came over a hill a bit too fast and started breaking. However, I either didn't break hard enough, or soon enough, because I was pulled over by our city's finest.
He approached the car and asked the usual question, "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
"Probably because I came over the top of the hill a bit fast?"
"Do you know how fast you were going?"
"Honestly, no. As soon as I came over the hill I felt that I was going too fast and started breaking, so I'm not really sure how fast I was going."
"I clocked you at 42." (that's miles per hour, Laziest. ;) )
"Uh. Ok."
"Do you know what the speed limit is on this road?"
Well, let's think. Clearly it's under 42, eh? In all actuality, the likelihood that the speed limit was 35 was about 99%, so I opted for that choice. "35." I replied, knowingly.
"Actually, it's 30 here." Then he took a look at my license and such. That is, my Utah license. I never thought I'd be genuinely thankful for a Utah license over a California one, until that moment. "Do you live here, on the Island?" He asked.
"Yes. I do."
"How long have you lived out here?"
"Uh, 10 ... 11 days, maybe."
"Ok. I'm going to go make some notes to myself, I'll be right back." And with that, he walked back to his car.
20 years later he came back and returned my license. Then he told me, "Just be aware, we do a lot of traffic out on the Island. If you haven't been pulled over, you haven't been here long. Just keep in within about 5 of the speed limit and you should be fine." Can you believe he actually told me that? I thought those rules were unwritten and passed on as sage advice from parent to child through the generations. However, you can be sure I was thankful for the information. You never know for sure where your leniency ends. I took the opportunity (since he was in a generous mood anyway) to ask how long I have to change my license over — it's 45 days, in case you care. With that he said, in a friendly official tone, "Oh, and welcome to the Island."
posted by granola girl at 8:15 pm
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