I decided to share this, though I am not proud of what I have done. I got a speeding ticket that I deserved. Here is part of the essay that I wrote, perhaps in sharing, we all can learn from my mistakes.
I was the third car out of five in a pack that was cruising along. The two ahead of me were ahead of me because they passed me. Lots of cars passed me, at least 15 since Hilo. I started counting cars that overtake me as a habit when I drive my own little old car. Because it is so old and small, people will do anything to overtake it. I have been driving for 28 years, and I had a perfectly clean abstract until that day on the new Saddle Road. I have driven commercial vehicles, cargo vans in NYC, summer school kids in school busses, and every other situation you can imagine. But that day, I didn’t hit the brake fast enough, and I was cruising in the pack rather than slowing down considerably. Lesson learned. But it is also that clean abstract that makes me want answers. Answers I didn’t receive.
I was aware enough of the situation around me. I was braking, but obviously not hard enough. I had put my flashers on because a police car had pulled over the lead car in the hidden corner of the bend. My headlights were on for visibility, and I checked all my mirrors and found another police car approaching at high speed with emergency lights but no siren on. It was in the most dangerous area as we approach the military intersection, where there are yellow lines all around. I pulled over, to let him pass, and the police car tore by so to pull over the car ahead of me. I signaled, checked my blind spot, waited for the other two cars to pass, and began to pull out. The officer waved an angry arm out the window that I should stay put too. So that made 3 out of 5 cars pulled over. The officer walked back to the car and yelled at me before he even reached the vehicle. He was yelling that I was doing 67 mph and the car ahead of me, that passed me, was only doing 60 mph. He was mad, and I knew more than to disagree with him. I have been an educator long enough to recognize bullying techniques. Accuse someone of something extreme and make a fight, then switch mode and say that you were defending yourself. That is also a stress reaction when you are burned out.
I zipped it, though I wanted to tell him my side. To enter into an argument with someone that was already irate, was not a good idea. He continued to yell at me about how I was going 67 and the other car was going much slower. I remember thinking that if that were the case, I would be bullying that car off the road. I would have been on it’s bumper in no time. And equally important, If that was the case, that officer was probably doing 15mph faster than me in order to overtake me, making him travelling at 82mph, which would be quite dangerous in a 40 mph zone, and also it would have called out for a much greater braking distance than what actually occurred. It was pretty clear that I shouldn’t make note of my own calculations, or he may likely pull my license even though it was a first offence.
I think it should have been clear that I was not much of a fighter, and certainly no threat to the officer. I was quietly sobbing while he yelled. I was scared because it was like what you see on the news. He eventually gave up on me, maybe because I didn’t offer him the fight that he seemed to want. When I saw him approaching the car again, even though I had ticket already in hand, and all I could think was “God, now what?” It was clear that I was shaken, and upset and in no condition to drive at that moment, so I read my ticket as I regained composure. So what does he do? Command me to go, to drive, to basically clear out of there so he can have the space so that he can pull over multiple cars all afternoon. I just shook my head at him in my best “really? Give me a minute” look and eventually drove away. I had a lot of questions that would remain unanswered. If he was as concerned about road safety as he noted, why didn’t he use his siren? Why did he pull over multiple cars at once? Why didn’t he explain the shifting speed limit. Why would he command me to drive when I was clearly too upset to do so safely? Why would he accuse me of going faster than the car ahead of me?
As I drove back to work, I thought a lot about him, and I was mad as can be at him and his attitude. I counted cars again, with another 12 passing me, and one “rode my bumper” to the end of the highway so close that I could see the color of his eyes in my mirror. All I could think was, “is this working?” Is it inspiring road safety? What was my take away? Did I learn a good lesson? In some ways yes, I understand that I was speeding. But what was taken away was just as great: I lost faith in our local police. As I drove, all I could think of was how happy I was not to be like him. But as the days passed, and I reflected upon it, I thought that he too probably didn’t want to be like me. I was just as stressed out as he, trying to do too much and speeding so to try to cram more work into my life.
I decided to administer my own “sentence” if you will. I forced myself to take a day off, to rest, and to do good. As a farmer, there are no days off until you get injured. So this was really hard for me to do. What I did as punishment for my being a “stressed out speeder” was to take a 100 lb rack of bananas that I grew, and divide them up so that the whole neighborhood got a share. It may have made more sense to sell them to a restaurant and that would have paid the ticket, and just “be done with it,“ but that would not have offered what I ended up taking away that day. The real lesson was to go door to door and listen to my neighbors, because that was what I was really angry about. The police officer didn’t allow me a safe place to state my side, to educate me, or allow me to feel safe in questioning his judgment. I figured that other people needed to be listened to as well. So I spent a day giving my neighborhood that opportunity.
What I learned was pretty humbling. I may have been mad at myself for speeding, and at the policeman for yelling at me, but my neighbors, who I was a stranger to, shared stories of long stored grief and pain. I talked to the elderly that were home in the middle of the day. We talked about the fears they have about aging, about kidney transplants, the haunting memories of the Korean War, and of loosing their husbands and wives through death. My entire neighborhood was hurting, and I had no idea. I was doing the same as so many others, just work yourself silly and zoom between tasks, and cram your life so full of obligations, that you forget the real lessons of life: to mourn, to forgive, to heal, and to listen. Be a good neighbor and think of others.
In summary, that is what a speeding ticket is about. We are putting ourselves above others at the risk of public safety. We think our lives are more important, or our obligations more necessary, so we push the speed up so to “live more” when really we may be missing life around us in more ways than one. Did I learn a lesson? Yes. Will I do my best not to do it again? Yes. Do I deserve to be punished? Yes. But the biggest reward for me was learning that my own heart could be transformed, and to come to the realization that the policeman, who I was previously so mad at, probably needs someone to stop by his door with a bunch of bananas, and to be there to listen, just as badly as my neighbors did.