How I Got Out of a Speeding Ticket in Colorado

The Dash Cam--Not a Car in Sight

The boys and I had been driving all day on our way to summer camp in Colorado. We were tired, hungry, and getting on each others’ nerves. Jyl was in a luxury hotel in New York City, while I was trekking through the night in a pouring rain.

For the hundredth time that day, one of my sons started crying about something his brother had done to him (allegedly). As I was reaching for a frosted cupcake to throw at him I saw flashing red and blue lights in my rearview mirror. Perfect. I was being pulled over in the middle of the night with screaming kids in a town I had never heard of.

I eased the car to the shoulder, put my hands on the wheel, and waited for Officer Friendly to approach. He took his sweet time before he got out of his cruiser, but he finally walked up to my window.
“May I see your driver’s license?” he smugly asked.
I paused before answering, fighting a mischievous urge that was beginning to brew. “I don’t have one,” I stated. “I had it suspended when I got my 5th DUI.” So much for fighting the mischievous urge. The game was on.
The officer paused and then condescendingly said, “Well that’s not looking too good for you sir. May I see the owner’s card for this vehicle?”
I replied, “Well, you could, but it’s not my car. I stole it.”
Now slightly taken aback, the officer asked, “The car is stolen?”
“That’s right. But come to think of it, I think I saw the registration in the glove box when I was putting my gun in there,” I said helpfully.
His temper rising, the officer asked, “There’s a gun in the glove box?”
“Yes sir. That’s where I put it after I shot and killed the woman who owns this car and stuffed her in the trunk.”
“There’s a BODY in the TRUNK?” he exclaimed.
I sheepishly answered, “Yes, sir,” then turned and gave the kids a wink.
Suddenly Officer Friendly became Officer Unfriendly. “Sir step out of the car and put your hands on the roof,” he barked.

He quickly radioed his captain and within minutes the car was surrounded by police, and the captain approached our window to try to get a handle on what was rapidly becoming a tense situation.

The situation seemed to be going from bad to worse.

The captain asked, “Sir, can I see your license?”
I answered, “Sure. Here it is.” It was valid.

Eying me suspiciously he inquired, “Who’s car is this?”
Without hesitation I answered, “It’s mine, officer. Here’s the registration.” He read the card and seemed surprised to find it current and with my name clearly printed upon it.

Glancing briefly at his officer the captain asked, “Could you slowly open your glove box so I can see if there’s a gun in it?”
With a startled look I answered, “Yes, sir, but there’s no gun in it.” Sure enough, there was nothing in the glove box.

The original officer then stepped up and demanded, “Have him open the trunk, captain.”
The captain asked, “Would you mind opening your trunk? I was told you said there’s a body in it.”

“No problem, sir,” I obediently replied. I pushed the button to open the trunk. There wasn’t a body.

The captain said, “I don’t understand it. The officer who stopped you said you told him you didn’t have a license, stole the car, had a gun in the glovebox, and that there was a dead body in the trunk.”

With an insulted look on my face I answered, “Yeah, I’ll bet the lying S.O.B. told you I was speeding, too!”

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