The Wrong Side of the Law

The return address on the envelope said Santa Ana Police, and I momentarily tossed it aside thinking it was a request for money (and in a way it was) but then I took a second look, saw the word “traffic”, and opened it up. Turns out I was not only being charged with driving through a red light, but I had been photographed in the act of doing so.

I have no defense. Haven’t we all experienced that instant of indecision, with the light changing or about to change -- whether to brake or accelerate?

In this case, I opted to speed forward, and then thought, “Whew. That was close. Thank God no one saw me.”

Wrong. Someone had. That big camera in the sky.

Who knew about this fancy new form of surveillance in traffic enforcement? Apparently everyone but me. No human interactions are needed these days. No heart-stopping glimpses of red lights in the rear view mirror. B

ut that doesn't mean you're home free.

What’s strange is to see a candid (and rather unflattering) image of myself at the wheel, caught in the act of committing an infraction. Stranger still is the fact that my teeth are bared. Whether grin or grimace, it’s hard to say, but Monte says it gives the impression that I am laughing, which is sure to make me look like a very unsympathetic character when sentencing comes around.

But I remember the moment and I know that I was not gleefully thinking that I had gotten away with something. In fact, I was gritting my teeth, trying to get over to the assisted living facility before my mother went down to dinner, having been through a series of appointments and errands that day, and still in the jangled frame of mind I get into while in Orange County. Too many people, too much congestion, too many cars. I’ve lost my urban edge. I’m a Ranch girl, after all.

And my intentions were noble. I don’t make these trips for the fun of it. I’m trying to be dutiful, even when I’d much rather be at home in my own comforting turf.

But the powers that be would not give a whit about my extenuating circumstances, of that I am certain. The photographic evidence clearly shows that my front wheels were barely at the crosswalk when that light turned red, and as it says in bold letters across the top of the notice, “RED MEANS STOP.”

Ouch. I can almost feel the ruler being snapped across my knuckles.

So now I am officially a lawbreaker, and I believe I’m technically out on bail awaiting sentencing, which is sure to include a fine sharp enough to make me sting and the option to attend traffic school. (I can hardly wait.)

Well, I suppose it’s a small thing in the scheme of things, but I do feel sort of chastised and paranoid and tainted and caught.

I confess, though.

And I’ve learned my lesson. Really, it makes sense. I'm lucky there was no accident.

I just wish I could destroy that photograph.