amazngj's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How not to deal with a speedeing ticket I'm feeling old. I remembered about an hour ago that my first speeding ticket was on this day, back in 1991. Fourteen years ago. There were people born that day who are now entering high school. It was a Thursday night and I was at Camp Twin Echo, a Boy Scout Camp located in the Applachian mountains outside Ligonier, Pennsylvania. I was sixteen, and one of the few camp counselers who had their driving license. At dinner in the mess hall that night, I was approached by Dennis Schrecengost (Einstein), Jeff Patrizio (Peanut), Bobby McCracken (Slacken) and Joey Barton (Joey). They confirmed that I had my license and asked if I could take them to the mall after Vespers (non-denominational church for campers). I told them that A. It was not my night off and B. I didn't have a car. They responded by saying that they would find someone who would lend us a car if I was willing to sneak out of camp. I was willing. After Vespers, I left the Chapel and they told me that they found a car for us. The owner was sleeping, so they couldn't technically "Ask" him, but he was another friend of ours from my home troop. His Dad was my scoutmaster, so of course, no problem, borrowing his car, after all, his Dad worked with my Dad, they would trust us... So I snuck out to the parking lot while the other guys signed out of camp for the evening. We drove down the road from camp, heading into the great city of Latrobe, Pennsylvania. We, as always, stopped at the Sheetz gas station in Ligonier. We always stopped there to load up on Mountain Dew in giant cups, cigars and the latest issue of Penthouse Letters. [We only read it for the letters, not the pictures.] So, Dennis is in the passenger seat, navigating, and Slacken, Peanut and Joey were in the back. Peanut was in the middle, reading the Penthouse letters to the rest of us, and we made our way towards the city and the closest of two malls in Latrobe. By the way, the reason they had to get to the mall tonight was a new "Role-playing" game was being released and they had to get it before they closed or they would have to wait until next Thursday, and their next day off to procure the game. The malls closed at nine, and it was eight-thirty when we left Sheetz, a good thirty miles from the mall, all on back winding roads through the mountains. We made it to the mall, just at nine, and ran through the mall as stores closed the gates and turned off the lights as we ran towards the one store that sold thier game. As they approached the store, a large man was pulling down the gate. They begged and explained that they want one game, they knew where it was, had cash and would be in and out as quickly as he could take their money. He said, "Sorry" and slammed the gate. Plan B. Run to the car and race to the next mall (five miles away) and pretend like that mall might be located in a slightly different time zone where their nine o'clock would be just a few minutes after the first malls. As we approached the entrance, we were discouraged to see ALL of the cars exiting the parking lot, and realized that time zones are defined by extensive imaginary lines every five hundred miles or so, and does not allow for gradients of less than one hour. Plan C. Turn around at the top of the next hill and go back to the Pizza place by the first mall. As I made the illegal U-Turn at the top of the next hill, I shot down into the valley, past a Pizza Hut and up to the next hill and through a series of lights before I got to ShowBiz Pizza (a Chuck E. Cheese ripoff with video and arcade games complete with a giant Bear named Bill E. Bob). As I sat in the left turn lane, waiting to turn into the K-Mart shopping plaza to at least enjoy the pizza and arcades (without the stupid role-playing dork game), that's when I glanced at Peanut, still reading the Penthouse Letters by the dome light to us all. Peanut, for some reason, had a red and blue light flashing over his head. I had never been pulled over at this point in time, and had no idea how this worked. Everything I knew was based on cheesy eighties movies and sit-coms. I knew I was suppossed to pull off of the road, usually on the right hand side, but I was aready stopped, and I was on the left side of the road. Apparently police officers become nervous when they are attempting to pull over someone in a turn lane, when that car suddenly turns on the other turn signal and begins inching into traffic. It wasn't until the police got on their loud speaker and instructed, "When the light turns green, pull into K-Mart parking lot and pull over." As the rest of the car began to panic, convinced that we were being pulled over for having our interior light on, I was trying to fix my fourth mistake (attempting to pull away from the officer) by letting them know that I understood to pull over at K-Mart. I am attempting to nod exageratedly to the side so he can see me, give him a thumbs up out the window and waving. I'm sure at this point I looked like an epileptic on drugs. The rest of the car had decided to stash the magazine under the driver's seat with the cigars and dump everything out of the glove box, preparing to explain that the light was on because we lost something in the glove box and were now looking for it. I casually explained that, pretty much since we left camp, I had been traveling close to ninety miles per hour, and they probably didn't care if the light was on. So, I finally successfully pull over, and I begin to get out of the car when Dennis asks me what the hell I am doing. Again, I am only thinking that one of us is suppossed to knock on the other's window, not thinking really clearly. Of course then I panic becasue I have now removed my seatbelt, and that won't look good, so I continue my now knowingly wrong action of getting out of the car. I'm surprised I didn't wet myself as I got back in the car at the direction of a police officer with his gun drawn. He approaches and asks for license and registration. Joey begins to explain that the light was on because we were looking for the registration as Dennis hands him a registration bearing the name, "Barry Sheetz." All of a sudden, borrowing a car registered to someone my dad works with did not seem like a good idea. Aside from some stammering and explaining that we were all Boy Scouts, good honorable leaders in the community, and that we would be heading right back to camp, everything else went pretty normal and uneventful. It didn't help that the police had caught us speeding back by the Pizza Hut - five miles ago. It took them I while to catch up to us and get our attention after that. Sitting in ShowBiz Pizza, I was not much in the mood for playing arcade games or eating Pizza as I tried to figure out how we were going to pay for the $286.50 speeding ticket. He knocked the ticket down to only going 74 in a 45, although we all knew I was going faster than that. Apparently more than 29 MPH over the speed limit involves not giving back the car at the end of the prison term. When we got back to camp, Mitch Brooks, the Camp Director, was waiting up for me, for not being in camp when I was not allowed to leave that night. Chris Sheetz was there, wondering where his car was, and I knew my parents would probably find out soon enough. On the plus side, Dennis and I took a collection over the following week to cover the cost of the speeding ticket and ended up making a profit of about thirty dollars each. 21:15 - 12 July 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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