Fishing for a Speeding Ticket

The 1984 Chevrolet Silverado was a joy to drive and all but new. It was not often my brother let me drive his pride and joy, especially when he was the passenger.

We had gone to Amarillo on business and spent the night and was headed back home to Mountainair, New Mexico. The trip was roughly six hours long. As we cruised down US Highway 60, we could see the Manzano Mountains in the distance and that meant home.

The two-lane highway was practically deserted and the sun was slowly setting behind our beloved mountains in a techno-colored explosion of color. The speedometer showed 75 miles per hour and the law was 55. We topped a hill just west of the small town of Encino, and below us sat a New Mexico State Police officer. Before we got to the bottom of the hill, his lights were flashing.

I pulled over beside him. I was guilty, no doubt about it. I had never received a ticket before, and this was going to be my first.

As the officer approached my side of the pickup, my brother was busy looking through the glove box for his proof-of-insurance. He found his registration, several old receipts, an expired fishing license, but no proof-of-insurance. I knew I was sunk.

The officer said, "Do you know how fast you were going?"

"I know I was speeding, Sir." I replied while I handed him my license, the registration and my brother's fishing license, without him asking. "I just got caught up watching the sun set over the Manzano Mountains and knew we were almost home."

The officer glanced into the bed of the pickup and saw the one suit case. Since my brother is my half-brother and there is no resemblance, I am sure he thought we were newlyweds.

He didn't even glance at the documents until he was at his car. I could see him laughing when he found the fishing license in our documentation. No doubt about it, I was headed to jail, thanks to my desire to be home and my brother's lack of proof of insurance.

In a few minutes, the officer returned to my side of the truck. He handed me the papers back but no speeding ticket. I looked at him in surprise. I could tell he was chocking back further laughter. "Well, slow down and go home."

Believe me, we slowed down and we went home without fishing for any more speeding tickets.