I have a new baby nephew. He was born to my brother and his sweet beautiful bride in Waco, 3 1/2 hours northeast of us.
Since this is their first baby and they have no older helpers or family nearby, we sent Kaitlyn and Lydia to help for several days during Baby Samson’s first week. On Thursday evening, I headed up to retrieve the girls and see the little guy firsthand. Becca and Parker rode with me in Perry’s little work car, but both fell asleep halfway through the trip.
As I came through Georgetown, it was already past 11 PM and I-35 was nearly empty. The nearest vehicle was a silhouette in my rear view mirror, at least 100 yards behind me. I was tired and kept finding myself dropping below 60 mph, although the posted limit was 70 during the day and 65 at night.
Confession time: I was talking to Kaitlyn on the phone as I drove. Not the best idea, I know, but I was hardly in traffic and I think the conversation was keeping me from getting drowsy. This is relevant because I am hard of hearing in my right ear and always hold the phone on the left side, with my left hand. When I realized that I was in the far left lane and decided to move to the right, my left hand was busy and it seemed like too much trouble to signal.
I know you are gasping in horror. Changing lanes without signalling? Who knew that KimC was capable of such crimes? Will you still read my blog now that you know my dirty secret?
Fear not, dear readers. My life of crime came to an early end, and justice was done. The authorities were on the scene. The one car on the road – the dark silhouette in my rear view mirror – exploded into a whirling array of red and blue lights and I found myself by the side of the road, rifling through my husband’s glove box looking for an insurance card.
But I’m afraid I may have been a disappointment to our brave hero. Georgetown is a college town, and I’m told that eager college students often start their weekend drinking binge on Thursday night. I’ve never been guilty of DUI, but I have driven behind a few likely candidates and they are slow. They tend to go 5 or 10 mph under the limit, and they probably don’t pay much attention to details like signalling a lane change. They probably drive smallish, older, inexpensive cars too, just like Perry’s work car.
If you still doubt me, the officer had me walk the figurative white line: he subtly tested my ability to multi-task, something the inebriated simply can’t do. We used to be good friends with a police officer, and he told us all about that trick and the amusement it provides.
Between the sleeping 9yo, the baby who woke up and cried on cue, and my ability to multi-task, I think the officer’s suspicions were allayed. Also, you probably don’t see too many 38yo women wearing their hair in a bun on their way home from a sorority party.
In the end, I left with a warning but no ticket and my driving record is still squeaky clean. I have to admit that I am just a little grateful for the reminder to signal when I change lanes. It’s very important for me to use my turn signal every single time. How else can I justify my extreme irritation at drivers who don’t?by