I got a ticket for running a red light in the mail with pictures and video to check out on the web. It felt as if I had been walking around with my skirt tucked into my underwear with toilet paper trailing my ass and no one bothering to tell me. Why in the world would I run a red light?
I used to be in a hurry all the time. Two very old, small people put a stop to that for me years ago. You know, the guy with the hat and his lady, both of whom you can not see above the seats. It's as if the car is being run by a remote control.
These two pulled out of their driveway as I was speeding down my street late again for something or another. I came to a dead halt. Very slowly and calmly they backed out, he carefully turning the wheels. My steering wheel was in a vise grip, my face all contorted and red, with screams of frustration bouncing off the inside of the vehicle.
A giant beam of light struck the inside of my car just then. A high note of operatic glory sang in the air. It occurred to me that I was going to be late to wherever I was going and by God; I was going to act as if I was retired just like these two. Why wait to have their calm. From that moment forward I've been driving around like a retired granny. I haven't been late to an appointment since.
Maybe my granny driving had caused granny brain. I simply could not remember running that red light. I had to know for sure and magnified the picture. Behold. It wasn't me driving!
Here's proof. I was in the back.