The Speeder
Author Unknown
Jack took a long look at his
speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 mph zone. The flashing red
in his rearview mirror insisted he pull over quickly, but Jack let the
car coast. Fourth time in a few months. How could a guy get caught so
often? When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over,
but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic
hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. He
slumped into his seat; the collar of his trench coat covering his
ears. He tapped the steering wheel, doing his best to look bored, his
eyes on the mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad
in hand.
Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk
further into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A
cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a
little too eager to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he
was about to play golf with tomorrow. Jack was tempted to leave the
window shut long enough to gain the psychological edge but decided on
a different tack. Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw
every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.
"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you
like this."
"Hello, Jack." No
smile.
"Guess you caught me
red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess." Bob
seemed uncertain. Good thought, Jack.
"I've seen some long days at
the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit ~ just this
once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane said
something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I
mean."
"I know what you mean. I
also know that you have a reputation in our precinct," Bob said.
Ouch. This was not going in the
right direction. Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me
at?" asked Jack.
"Seventy-one. Would you sit
back in your car, please?" Bob said.
"Now wait a minute here,
Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65."
The lies seemed to come easier
with every ticket replied Bob.
"Please, Jack, sit in the
car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself
through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the
dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked
by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's
license? Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before
Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head
to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down
the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the
slip.
"Thanks." Jack could
not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his car without a
word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror, bottom teeth scratching
his upper lip. When Bob vanished inside his car, Jack unfolded the
sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?
Wait a minute. What was this?
Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:
Dear Jack,
Once upon a time I had a
daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it ~ a
speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was
free. Free to hug his daughters. All three of them. I only had one,
and I'm going to have to wait until heaven before I ever hug her
again. A thousand times I've tried to forgive this man. A thousand
times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even
now. Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have left.
Bob
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his
trench coat. Then he twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away
and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15
minutes later, he, too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for
forgiveness and hugging his surprised wife and kids when he arrived.


































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