I have never been pulled over by a cop, a fact that I until recently was very proud of. I just couldn’t understand why my little sister could get pulled over so many times; doesn’t she look for cops so she can slow down? Common, it’s not that hard. Hello, I have been driving for-gulp—nine years already and have yet to see those popsicle colored sirens in my rear view mirror.
But recently I have been getting very brave. I speed regularly (ok, I have always done that), but now I don’t look for cops as hard as I used to. Well, I still look for them, but—this is where the bravery comes in—I don’t slow way down. I put my foot on the brake pedal just lightly, taking my speedometer down like five notches instead of ten or fifteen. I know, I know, it’s seriously crazy.
You see, now that I am married to a cop, I feel this power. It’s not that I think I would get out of a ticket (Joey told me at one point that trying to bribe an officer will land me in jail), but I am not afraid of them anymore. For instance, instead of rolling up alongside a cop car with white-knuckled fists on the wheel like I just drove up from Mexico with a load of crack in my trunk, I sort of gingerly roll to a stop, one hand loosely controlling the wheel, head back just slightly, a relaxed smile on my face like Ethan just said something slightly amusing or like a person who is just a tad buzzed. Then I very casually look over at the cop and smile or wave.
It’s absolutely thrilling.
The cops usually look a little confused and sometimes annoyed but most of the time are friendly and will wave back in a civil service sort of way. And, if one of them ever decides to pull me over, I picture myself very cool and charming, laughing with just the hint of flirtatiousness like we are at a summer bar-b-que together and he just asked me to pass the potato salad.