This is me in my new used 454 Chevrolet truck (with camper) on Lee-Jackson Day.
It is January 15, 1984, on a cold and icy road.
I am returning from having dropped off my daughter at her high school.
She missed the bus. I have to be at trial by ten a.m.
I threw on clothes but left very LARGE rollers in my hair.
There is but one road to travel to the school and back to my farm.
As I round the bend...
I'm in surround sound: STOP THE TRUCK! NOW! DO NOT MOVE!
Trooper edges toward my door with gun drawn.
I profusely apologize for rollers in my hair.
Explained I'm new to the area and didn't know the rules of the county.
(Should have used empty tomato sauce cans.)
Trooper realizes error and apologizes.
Explains that surveillance (Big Brother) saw me, earlier.
Headquarters was alerted and armed officers dispatched, post haste.
Seems there's an escaped convict who shares my taste in Chevy trucks.
Trooper becomes nicer but I am, again, told: DO NOT MOVE!
His officers are too far away to see that I'm pure as the driven snow. (blush!)
Asks for registration. I reach over to get my ... "PLEASE, DO NOT MOVE, MA'AM!"
I tell him it's in the glove compartment. He says he'll get it.
Until I'm cleared, guns are still on target -- ME!
I pass and he signals for the Firing Squad to lower their rifles.
It is then that I ask for his name and mention I'm late for court.
Now, I have HIS attention.
With a smile and a, "Sorry for the inconvenience, Ma'am," we part friends.
Rush home; remove curlers; head to court.
It's Lee-Jackson Day. There is no court.
But, my hair looked great!
Moral of story: Life won't happen to you, unless you go out to meet it. Selah.
This has been linked to Things I Can't Say, too. So, hop on over and visit and meet some new friends