Highway Robbery

This is the story I did not want to have to write. However, as so often happens, even though I tried to avoid it, the story came and got me. Or should I say, stopped me, beside the road in Elkins, Arkansas. It was a Friday afternoon. I was coming home to Fayetteville after delivering some graphic work, which the clients had disliked intensely (happens sometimes, you get used to it). Now, I have driven on this particular stretch of road hundreds of times, I am used to slowing down for the speed zone, and I am well aware of the efficiency with witch the police monitor the situation. This particular time, the "school zone" lights were flashing which means extra slow. I realized I was a tad over and tapped my brakes lightly as I approached the 25 MPH zone. At this point, I had my foot all the way off the gas, and I was coasting in. Low and behold, immediately following the flashing sign sat the subtle dark blue colored patrol car, laying in wait for any unsuspecting citizen who was not observing the posted speed limits to the exact letter of the law. I thought I had been OK, another vehicle pulled in behind me, but when it turned off, the patrol car was behind me with blue lights flashing.
When you hear this next bit, you're probably going to laugh at me and call me a fool, which is fine, but I would like to say in my defense that I would probably be a pretty boring writer if I didn't make interesting mistakes. Not only did I not have my driver's license on me, but it was expired. And to make matters worse, I had neglected to update the card in my glove box that proved my insurance was good. The officer approached the cab carefully, peering over my shoulder, as though I might be armed and dangerous. He informed me that he had clocked me at 32 MPH and went back to check my record (which was absolutely clean).
At this point, I realized I was screwed and took some deep breaths and did some relaxation exercises. I wondered how I had let myself get to this point. I realized, too, that I looked like a wreck, with a couple of days of unshaven whiskers and Einstein hair. I had been working too hard for too long, hadn't had enough of a break to attend to the little details. Maybe too, with 150,000+ miles of polite, considerate and accident-free driving in my lifetime, I made the mistake of thinking that obeying the spirit of the law qualified me as a good driver. After all, isn't that the point? Don't we have the laws so that we can all share the roads smoothly and safely? No, I'm afraid not. The system places a burden upon the citizen at all times to be able to prove his/her identity and qualifications regardless of their actual record or intentions.
There was basically no discussion. The officer told me to wait. I sat there thinking until the tow truck arrived. I gathered some things out of my cab that I had to have - my portfolios and a large cast aluminum air cleaner assembly I was working on to be fitted atop the engine of a hot rod. The officer informed me that I was going to have to call someone to pick me up. I told him that all my friends were at work and that I would just as soon hitch-hike home. His response was something like, "Oh, No, you can't do that it's illegal. I would have to write you another citation, and if you try it outside the city limits, I'll have to call the county police on you. You'll have to call someone to come get you" He gave me my ticket, and I went and sat on some nice grass on the roadside while the tow truck guy hooked up my vehicle.
At the police station, I sat there in front of the phone book thinking about who I could call. Honestly, every friend I could think of was at work, and my mom's car was up on blocks at my house. The cop seemed to want me to make at least one phone call, so I called my own number to see if Wendy might have gotten home early. Nobody home, not even the answering machine. I was not being held, so I bid the officer to have a good day and took off walking. On the non-hitch-hiking side of the road, mind you, past the modest, neatly kept houses along the highway through Elkins. It was a beautiful day, and I started actually enjoying the walk. The scenery was pretty, and I realized that I had been meaning to get out for a walk for some time now but had been too pressed for time or just plain exhausted in those rare times when I have nothing to do.

Like a rape victim who blames herself for what was done to her, I take responsibility for the trouble I got myself into. After all, I was just an attractive target. If I had kept all of my papers straight, none of this would have happened, right? I do not expect your sympathy, nor am I whining. Technically, everything probably followed the prescription written by the letter of the law. I'll take my medicine and learn from it. The bigger story here is the other side, the human side of the equation. For even the police officer has a speck of human residing in him. Even he felt at some small level that what he had done, no matter how well justified by the letter of the law, was an unfriendly thing. He came back by as I was galumphing along, air filter assembly, portfolios, and by now my jacket held awkwardly under my arm. I'm sure he wanted to make sure I was being obedient about the hitch-hiking, but also he was concerned for my well-being. Whatever, I took it as a friendly gesture, as he gave me a lift to the mini-mart about a mile up the road. "Looks like it might rain," he said, and as he dropped me at the mini-mart he suggested I have some coffee and wait until I could call for a ride.
Stepping out of the police car and going into the mini-mart felt comforting. I felt distinctly the crossing into the good nature of the people of Elkins. As I bought a bottle of water, a conversation struck up with the friendly lady behind the counter, and between several smiling customers whipping in and out to get their gas and snacks, I told her my story. She was apologetic about the efficiency, shall we say, of the police officers of her town, noting that she had heard many stories of their overzealous law enforcement. I didn't want to be a bother, so I went to sit down at one of the small tables. Occasionally, when someone came by who looked like they wouldn't mind, I would politely ask for a ride, but nobody was going my direction.
 

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before a man and his son came up to me and said they'd be happy to take me to Fayetteville. The lady behind the counter looked over at me smiled. I waved thanks and hurried along with my ride. They, too, were good friendly people, the kind I've grown to expect living for a couple of decades in the hills of Arkansas. The father heard my story as one more in an ever-growing list of grievances against the Elkins police. He said that it was bad enough that some people had stopped doing business there because of it. He went on to say that this was the case in a lot of small towns, that overly active police could ruin the spirit of a small town. This man, neatly dressed with carefully trimmed graying hair and bifocals, was across ideological and generational boundaries from myself, who was basically born on the fringe. When I was growing up as a small hippie child, I naively thought it was people like him who were making the law. Now, here we both are, feeling harassed by the law. He said He was reading Pat Robertson's book about how this country is slowly becoming a police state, as he dropped me off at my front door.

I don't know how business is going at the local stores, but one thing's for sure, business is booming at Elkins traffic court. It was standing room only. The judge laid out the rules and emphasized that when he called a person's name and they had chosen not to show up, that he was putting their name on a list, which meant BIG Trouble. As if to emphasize this point once again, the first people up in front of him were in for "failure to pay fines." I listened in on one man's story. He shuffled up to face the judge in an orange and white striped prison suit and ankle chains. The judge asked him why he was here. The prisoner answered "Well it all started when I got caught fishing without a license..." He had failed to pay the initial $150 fine because he had no job and no money, failed to appear in court at the demanded time, and now his fines were over $3000, and he was doing a year and a half in county jail. The point was obvious and not lost on me: This could very easily become a downward spiral in which they (the law) would become involved in my life on a daily basis. They did not seem to mind though, in fact, it seemed as though they were all having a great time. Most of the other offenders were in for speeding, with other violations tacked on. After waiting for about an hour and a half, it was my turn. He scrutinized my papers carefully and dropped the insurance charge, but he was unimpressed by my newly-renewed driver's license, and the speeding was not 7 MPH over in the very beginning of the speed zone it was "speeding in a school zone." No discussion. I watched sort of dazed as he deftly wrote out the money amounts: $100 + $75 (court cost) + $75 + $75(court cost). If you add in the impound fee for my truck, the total comes to $365. In the room there, were thousands more dollars worth of fines and court costs, for sure. All I know is I was really relieved to just pay some money and get the heck out of there. And they were kind enough to give me a weekly pay schedule - eight more opportunities to get in deeper trouble.
In the past couple of weeks, while this was all happening I have heard and read more and more stories and accusations. However, I do not feel the need to repeat any of them. For one thing, I don't want to get sued. For another, the particular incidents are becoming immaterial. What is apparent is that they are part of a pattern that is much larger than the events in one small town. There is an obvious financial incentive to write tickets, and the letter of the law supports them, but the American public is working very hard, and is often feeling the sting of these fines. I had a friend whose favorite saying was "There's no such thing as a free lunch." Heed this advice, police forces, for while it may seem like easy money, the real cost is the relationship with the people you are supposed to be serving. The letter of the law allows it, but within the community, a police force can become a detrimental presence that can cause more harm than it does good. And they're trying to make it easier and easier to stop people. How about no seatbelt as a primary offense? And I even heard the governor saying he wanted to lower the blood alcohol limit. Ladies and gentlemen, the point is coming where all these laws designed to protect us from ourselves are beginning to crunch a lot of innocent people in the gears. It really makes you wonder in whose best interests the police are acting, in ours, or in their own.