By Jordan Gipson:
I had just gotten amazing news. My brother owed me $20 and he called to say my money was ready for pick up. I was already mapping out what I was going to do with that money. I could get gas, or lunch or even put it in my savings. The problem with the phone call was how my brother ended it. The words still haunt me… and my bank account… to this day. “Watch out for the motorcycle cops,” he said. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I like to call foreshadowing.
So, I get in my little toaster and I zoom off. The money was calling my name. Now, people in my family are known for being speed demons and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I just feel like I’m Dale Earnhardt Jr. and it’s the Daytona 500.
There I was heading down Hughes Street. The light turned green and I smashed on the gas. I was literally the first car over the bridge. As soon as I got over the bridge, I saw a huge semi-truck at the light, so I started calculating if I wanted to (a) pass the semi or (b) stay behind it. I decided option (a) was the way to go so I sped on. That was the problem. I sped on.
Just in case you are unaware of the way science and gravity work when you go down a hill, you go faster. I should have been tapping the brakes. Instead, my foot was on the gas pedal. Then, something in my brain said to look to my left and, as soon as I looked, I saw that shiny green vest and that black sleek speed radar. My eyes flashed down to peek at my speed. I was going 53 mph. The problem was the speed limit there is only 35 mph.
Instantly my heart sped up, my knees were weak and my palms were sweaty. The officer didn’t even bother to put his sirens on and that’s what really hurt my feelings. I wasn’t even mad because I knew I had made a mistake. The officer gave me the ticket and had the audacity to tell me to have a blessed day. My day was cursed because of him. I ended up paying $109.00, but hey, I got my $20.00. Guess that’s what happens when you mix speed with greed.