I went to traffic school Wednesday, and before you jump to any conclusions as to my driving habits, let me say that I am a very safe driver and that this is the first speeding ticket I’ve ever gotten. I generally stick to the speed limit, do not tailgate, and signal for all turns. BUT I did get caught by a traffic camera, and though I work for lawyers who could have probably gotten me out of the ticket, it seemed like the right thing to do was to say, “Yes, I’ve sped. You caught me. Let me pay my fine like a responsible adult.” So rather than take points on my license, (I had no idea that was even a real thing by the way, I think the only time I’d ever heard that was on the movie “The Fifth Element”) I decided to go to traffic school.
It was 4 and 1/2 hours I’ll never get back. And though the police officer who taught the class (Officer Goodman) was very informative and though he tried to make it interesting, as St. Ignatius said: The safest and most suitable form of penance seems to be that which causes pain in the flesh but does not penetrate to the bones, that is, which causes suffering but not sickness.
So, having suffered and felt pain in the flesh (of my rear sitting on the hard chairs) I will go and speed no more.
But wait, you may ask, did you learn anything?
Well, interestingly, I sort of did. For instance, Officer Goodman was saying that last week two of his officers had found only two bodies in trunks of cars. I gasped, “You mean that’s a real thing?” And he laughed and explained that there are about 300 murders in the Phoenix Metro area each year (not bad for over 6 million people, I suppose) and that the killers often feel that they have to do SOMETHING with the bodies, so pop them in the trunk to take them someplace else to dump.
Can you imagine getting stopped on the freeway when you have an ACTUAL BODY IN THE TRUNK!?!?
Officer Goodman went on to say that the reason he told us that was to point out that you just don’t know the person in the other car driving next to you. They may be just like me or you on their commute, listening to a little Pink Floyd or Kenny Chesney, or they could be someone calming driving to the industrial park with a dead body.
Just another day in the city, people.
Where are you when I need you, Sgt. Friday?