I was speaking with Brady during his recent Florida visit, and he told me he received his first speeding ticket. He’s been driving on his own since June and has his own “ride”. After driving with him when he was still “learning” I’m not surprised. He had a lead foot back then.
He has to complete an on-line course, and if he does so in a timely manner, he doesn’t get the points on his record and his insurance provider doesn’t get a heads up. Sounds like a good deal to me, but a bit loosey goosey on the part of the State.
During our conversation, I flashed back to my own troubles with the law. The summer between my sophomore and junior years of college I bought a brand new 1967 Mustang convertible. I collected several tickets in my “look at me” ride. I got one for running a “yellow” light and three or four for speeding. I never traveled really fast, just too fast. The points on my license added up and before I knew it I had too many.
I received a letter from the State requiring me to attend traffic school and shortly after a letter from my insurance company raising my rate to $1,000 for six months. The boosted rate would remain until the points got down to fewer than six. I estimated it would take about nine months, which meant my rate would be about $1,500 for the time frame rather than the normal $350. I couldn’t afford the increase, so I switched cars with my dad until the rate went down. I drove his 1963 Ford Galaxie and he drove my convertible.
The ticket that pushed me over the insurance rate limit was for speeding. I was doing 40 mph in a residential area marked at 25. I went to court to fight the ticket because I was sure if the judge heard of my extenuating circumstances, he would waive the ticket and the points. I was wrong.
I was speeding because I thought I was about to get my head kicked in by a former high school classmate. Earlier that day, “Judy”, told me she was engaged and about to marry “Rich”. “What are you going to do that for? You can do better.”
I was working in the supermarket, running the register, when I made the off-the-cuff remark. It was one of the several smart aleck remarks I was known for. I didn’t really mean it. I just said it. Judy worked with me at the store and she and “Rich” graduated with me. We were all twenty years old and, I thought, too young to get married.
About an hour later “Rich” showed up at my register and said, “Tebo, you’re a dead man. Judy told me what you said. I’m kicking your ass when you get off work tonight.” I knew he could, and he would, so I spent my final work hours developing a plan to avoid my beat down.
TBC