The Morning Rush

It was cold and dark in the early winter morning. The stars were brilliant in the clear crisp air as the headlights snapped on when the engine started in a muffled rumble. As the car eased around the unpaved driveway, the crunch of gravel broke what remained of the early morning quiet. Pausing only for a moment at the edge of the driveway, and taking a quick check in both directions, the car launched onto the asphalt and ramped up speed quickly. The long commute out of town began once again.

Few if any cars would be on the roads this early in the morning and the driver was going to take advantage of the situation. Coming to the stop sign just down the road from his house, he waited for one car to roll by and then punched it, giving a short squeal of tires as he headed up the main route. Knowing that 4 hours of driving lay in front of him, he was trying to shave minutes off the drive and was pushing the speed limits as he set off into the darkness.

A few turns and a couple of shortcuts later, the driver and car began a near hour long trek through the dark country side before the lights of the Interstate junction would break the monotony of the morning.

Knowing this route well, each turn, each pothole, and where the cops can hide, he hurtled through the darkness. Inside, the heater was blowing, the MP3 player was belting out deep bass on the car's sound system, and the GPS display matched each nuance of the road's path through the foot hills.

Speed limit 55, that's ridiculous...
The driver kept a watch on the road and his gauges. Looking for any sign of deer, road hazards, and cops, he pushed well past the speed limit.

79, that's enough, I don't want to be stupid about it, but its pointless to go 55 here.

Several minutes and quite a few miles pass as he pressed on. The engine of this former police cruiser was barely getting a workout. This engine and this car can handle speed. It holds to the road and it handles well.

Headlights? Coming up from behind?

At first only a single pair of headlights back in the distance could be seen. A few more minutes pass and a second set appeared right behind the first.

No one in their right mind would be gaining on me. Not at this speed.

Easing off the gas, the car rolled along, dropping speed slowly.

Dang! 59 and these guys are right on me. Maybe they will pass.

Keeping a close watch on the speed, hovering just above 55 but not too much, these three were the only cars on the road.

Why won't he just pass me? Oh crap...

The blue lights came on both cars running behind him as they neared a church. With a knot in the pit of his stomach, the driver pulled into the church parking lot, came round a median, and stopped with easy access back out onto the road. Both police cruisers rolled in behind him with their headlights filling his car interior and the side floods turn on as well.

She's gonna kill me, I know she's gonna kill me. She told me to not get a ticket.

As he turned off the MP3 player and fumbled for the registration from the glove box, the driver took a quick look in the side mirrors. The cops from the first car were already out of their vehicle. The driver was walking forward with one hand carrying what seemed to be an overly large flashlight in one hand, and his other hand on his holster. His partner lingered back on the other side of the car in similar form, again with one hand on his weapon.

Oh crap! This doesn't look right.
Finding the registration finally, he took another look in the mirrors. The cops from the second car had emerged from their vehicle, but were standing behind their doors.

What are they expecting? Are these guys really serious?.
As the cop approached the open window, he shone the flashlight all around the inside and outside of the car.

"You were going pretty fast back there mister."

Oh crap!
Blurting out "I'm sorry!" he handed his license and registration over to the policeman.

"So... do you have some reason that you need to be going so fast? Some place you need to be? Or not be?"

"No sir. I am so sorry."

"So, are you on your way to work then?"

"Yes sir. I have a long commute. I am headed over to Raleigh."

"Did you know your inspection sticker has expired?"

"What? Oh crap! No sir! I am so sorry."

I think I am so going to jail this morning.
"So you are just on your way to work. Tell me, did you pass any cars along the road? Specifically, did you pass any little silver cars? Possibly with the back window blown out of it?"

Dang. Window blown out? Like shot out?
"No sir, not that I recall. In fact, except for you guys, I haven't seen any other cars on the road."

"Do you realize how fast you were going back there?"

"Yes sir. And I am so sorry."

"Tell me... do you have a cell phone?"

What?
"A cell phone? Yes sir I do."

"Would you do us a favor then? If you see a little silver car somewhere along the road, would you call in and report it? Don't stop or go near it, but just call it in?"

"... Sure... do I just dial 911?"

"Yes, that will do. If you see a car like that, just call 911 and tell them about where you saw it. Will you do that for us?

"Absolutely."

"Ok then. Now listen... I want you to slow down. It is dangerous to drive that fast on this road. So get on to work and watch your speed. Ok?"

"Yes sir. I will."

As he fumbled putting the registration back in the glove box, he pondered these last few minutes.

Dang. They are looking for someone. And if they had not been looking for someone... oh crap.
Looking all around, he watched the officers get back in their vehicles. He looked up and down the road, and eased onto the asphalt once again. No squealing tires, no fast acceleration, no sudden moves of any kind. Just slow and easy. For the last 15 miles of this leg of the drive, his top speed was 55.

The morning had started with a rush. But this most recent delay to his commute was more of a rush than he anticipated or wanted. And fortunately, the remaining 3 hours of his trek were boring and uneventful and within all speed limits.

Arriving at the office half-way across the state, he was greeted with "You're a little late aren't you?"

"Oh well. Stuff happens."



Copyright 2008, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)