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My lead foot

Yesterday was not one of my better days. On my way to meet a friend for lunch, I didn't even get two blocks from home when a waiting police officer clocked me at 15 mph over the posted limit. I stepped on the brake as soon as I saw him, but it was too late.

Sheryl speeding

"Do you know why I pulled you over, m'am?"

"Not because you wanted to ask me how I liked my new Ford Escape, I suppose."

He didn't even crack a smile. "Do you know what the speed limit is here?"

"Forty," I replied meekly.

"How long have you lived at the address on your driver's license?"

"32 years. They broke ground the day my younger son was born."



"And you don't know the speed limit here is 35 mph?"

"I'm sorry officer, I guess I forgot."

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

"No sir, I was concentrating on watching the road."

police car

Being contrite and polite did not help me, and I refused to cry or play the Parkinson's card. The officer explained he had to give me a ticket because I was going too far over the limit for him to issue a warning. I tried not to look too pleased with myself, but after living with PD for 15 years, it's nice to know there is something I can still do quickly. If nothing else, I still have my lead foot.



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