I didn't have a full-fledged panic attack, but the General and I were somewhere near Angleton, headed toward Surfside Beach when I saw his car. So how fast was I going? Trust me, I wasn't going fast, but we had figuratively been through some one-horse towns where the speed limit dropped significantly. For all I knew, we could still be in one.
I looked at the GPS display screen in my truck, but the speed limit was not displayed. I inquisitively asked the General if she knew what the speed limit was? There wasn't a sarcastic tone in her voice, but the "How would I know, I'm not the one driving" response was a little irritating. Okay - you caught me. I was irritated.
I could see in my rearview mirror that the law enforcement vehicle was traveling in my direction. There were two lanes of traffic. I was already in the right lane, and I continued at the same rate of speed. To suggest that the law enforcement car was subsequently riding my bumper would have been delusional on my part, but my comfort level was something other than calm. The law enforcement car was behind me.
I experienced a sigh of relief when the vehicle subsequently passed me on the left side. I then trailed the law enforcement vehicle for about a quarter of a mile. The car pulled off the roadway and stopped. I passed by on the left.
Taking a right turn at the next intersection, I was unaware until I saw flashing lights that the law enforcement car was behind me again. The General wanted to know: "What are you doing? Why are you slowing down?" Her line of questioning ceased when I said we were being stopped by law enforcement.
The officer came to the passenger side of the car. I already had my driver's license out and was looking in my wallet for my insurance card. I was startled when the officer said, "I pulled you over because your vehicle registration has expired." Okay, so I live in another world. I was oblivious, but I distinctly remember that the General recently asked me if I put the registration sticker on the truck? I told her, "yes." This served to substantiate that I did not.
The officer then asked a question I have never been asked before. He wanted to know if I knew the number of the darkening tint on my windows? Did I what? Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about related to the tint number.
He said, "I'll be right back. I have a device to determine the tint." Returning, he asked me to partially raise my window. Like a dummy, I raised the one on the driver's door rather than the passenger side. Even the General picked up on the reality that I'm dumber than dirt. I needed to raise the window on the passenger side.
The officer slid the device down over the partially raised window and gave me a number. He said, "You are legal." He then asked: "Do you mind coming with me? You can take a seat in my car."
Okay, so was this just prior to the Miranda warning: "You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law...?"
Okay, so this was not my first rodeo, so to speak. I've been stopped before. However, I've never been asked to take a seat in a law enforcement vehicle. Fortunately, the offer was to sit in the front passenger seat, rather than the back seat.
Actually, the officer couldn't have been more pleasant. I found out that he has been involved in law enforcement for 11 years and he likes his job. I also found out that he is an adoptive parent. Since I wasn't wearing handcuffs, I felt I had the freedom to ask questions.
He provided me a warning citation and a recommendation of a good place to eat in Surfside. By his own admission, he has never eaten there because his wife doesn't like fish, but he said the place doesn't look like much, but it is always busy.
All My Best!
Don