Lucky.

I think it is no secret that our beloved van is elderly. And the elderly are just as good as the young, but certain things start to happen when we get older. Like, we shake a little when we go over 90 mph. No biggie. It happens. But, one of the advantages of youth is that we don't shake when we go over 90. Or at least, it seems like an advantage, at first. However, getting the shimmies can help you keep track of just what speed you are going, so the lack of the aforementioned shake takes away that little clue, thereby making dirty, evil, naughty speeding just a little easier.
My Dad's car is new. And the road to Vancouver is a lovely freeway with several lanes. And my Dad has satellite radio with lovely show tunes and hilarious comedy. And B.C. plates. The drive up was great. And the drive back down was great too, mostly.
Until I came up over a little hill and right up beside a King County sheriff. Now, my Momma didn't raise no fool, so I slowed the hell down (and I wasn't going THAT much too fast, only a little) but the lights came on anyway.
Now, I have never, ever (knock wood) been pulled over. Ever. But everyone who watches enough T.V. or enough movies knows what the lights mean. It means you are f**cked. It means that the couple hundred bucks you were going to use to pay some bills, or buy a purse or have a nice dinner are going to the state coffers.
So, I swore violently, got the sick feeling in my stomach that all Canadians get when facing figures of authority, and pulled over. I pulled out my wallet as I waited for the Sheriff 'round these hea parts to come and wrestle away our hard earned cash...And then he turned on this HUGE, insanely bright light, and I was sure I was also going to get a free roadside rectal. And then I remembered the tiny baggie filled with tiny, whitish crystals in my make-up bag. It was only sea salt for my new piercing, but it was unlabeled and I am panic junkie.
The cop makes his way over to the car, giant flashlight in hand. He was not, however a huge, hulking anger ball, but an older, smallish, sheriffy looking fellow. That seemed like either a really good thing, or the worst thing ever (see: Dukes of Hazzard), and then he said the most classic cop line since "A honey dip and a double-double please (see: Canada, former hockey player owned donut-shops of)." He said "Evening. Washington state Sheriff office. Do you know why I pulled you over?"
I am not blond. I am not delicate. I am not terribly girl. I am incapable of flirting. I am not tiny. I am not bubbly. But I ain't stupid. "I'm sorry Sir, no, I don't." Nervous smile.
"You had to be going over the speed limit. You came up over that hill and then had to slow down to drive right beside me and I was going the limit. You had to be doing at least 80."
"Oh my gosh Sir, I am so sorry. I thought the limit was 80 Sir."
"No. It is 70. There isn't anywhere in Washington state that is 80."
"Oh no. I am so sorry." Chagrined look.
"You can't just slow down when you see me. It doesn't work that way."
"Oh no Sir. I know." Very tiny nervous laugh.
A curt nod. "Alright. It is 70 here. Have a good night."
"Thank you so much Sir, you too."
And he waited behind me until I merged back in the flow of traffic. Which took a minute because I was peeing my pants.
And I drove in the far right lane and set the cruise control for 68 for the rest of the trip home.
Oh and Happy Valentine's Day.