Dear Meg,

I was in the cruiser behind the one that you tried to demolish Friday morning. You were never a “fugitive” because the officer you almost sent to the hospital decided to let you go. However, you should be aware that there is a Meg Pool and the next officer that clocks you speeding will win the prize. Seriously, slow down and pay attention.. The life you save may be mine.

Officer Michael *******
MPD

P.S. I have to know one thing, what were you thinking?

Uh...OK. I’ll be a good girl....really. I’ve already slowed the hell down as though I am a law abiding citizen. It’s amazing how slow those speed limits are. In the past, they were just numbers to me. Something to look at as I scuttled along, all full of my usual alacrity...with a smile on my face and, at times, my left foot out the window. I had decelerated long before I received your email...and that in itself has me rather freaked out. I’ve never received an email from the police before.

I’ve received emails from guys that I was dating who happened to BE cops, but your email was official enough for me to believe that it was not from a “guy who happened to be a cop”...it was from “The Police”.

Thanks for that Officer dude.

I don’t know where I developed my penchant for speeding but I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s become something of a birthright to me. I understand why they have speed limits...they’re a pretty good guideline for people with less expertise and dexterity than I. I possess this amazing, superlative hand to eye coordination. It’s really quite a thrill to watch. I just have a knack for driving. When you’re as good as I am, you just have to go with what feels right to you and it feels right for me to go whatever speed I think I can handle safely...OK?

BUT...since you guys are OBVIOUSLY going to harass me until I slow down...I will. It’s not that I don’t just LOVE the kick I get out of seeing you guys in my rear view window, all flaming with your pretty blue lights and all WOOOO WOOO....I really love the azure glow that your lights cast into my car at night. I especially take pleasure in that eternal walk you take from your car to mine...that minute it which I turn off my car radio and pray that I actually have my license ON me. There’s a solitude to that period of time before you say, “License and registration, ma’am.”

Those words are seared upon my brain. “License and registration, ma’am.” I should just tape the fuckers to my window, put the seat all the way back and lie down. You guys don’t give up, do you?

But, as I said, it isn’t that I don’t enjoy our little tete-a-tete’s...I sincerely do. It’s just those other guys, guys with jobs like prosecutor and judge. The guys who wear suits, carry briefcases and handkerchiefs scare the beejesus outta me. I guess it’s because they dress like my father did and HE scared the hell out of me. He was the ONLY person in a family of eight who came up the stairs quietly. And slowly. But we heard his ass loudly and clearly. So, it’s the guys in the suits that I’m afraid of. I love you guys in blue.

OH...you wanted to know what I was thinking...I almost forgot that. I was thinking about my directional. I saw both of you guys across the street from me. My front directional is out and doesn’t blink. So, I was wondering if you guys could tell that I had my blinkers on anyway. They DO work in the back. That’s what I was thinking about. And, in my own defense...which is pointless in it’s inception...there is usually a green arrow at that intersection. I didn’t know that it would turn green like it did, giving you guys the right of way. I drove through it this morning and I was given an arrow. I guess I never drove through the intersection that early before.

OK then? Just so you know...I WAS thinking. I wasn’t AIMING for the guy...I hope he knows that. Tell him that I’m sorry. I would promise that I won’t do that again but I never meant to do it in the first place.

Sometimes, I think about my last driving experience and I’m just glad that I made it home safely. Now I’ve scared myself. I don’t want to drive, ever again.

See ya,

Meg