Preface
This
story is dedicate to a particular Highway Patrol officer from Mile Marker
42. I think you might be one of "us", and wanted you to know you made a definite
impression on me, and if we run into each other at the Love's store on my
next trip, say hello.
"It's almost time for you to go home," he said. "You've got a three hour drive ahead of you, and whether you want to admit it or not, you're tired."
"Just a little longer...pllleaaassseeee...! I promise I'm not tired, and I don't get to come see you very often."
"I know you don't, but it'll be dark when you get home as it is."
She'd had a wonderful day and a half with him, recharging her emotional batteries, and escaping from some of the stress. They'd met in an IRC chat room in the spring, and in November she started going to see him. Just as they had when talking online, real life seemed to be a natural fit for him. He was older; she was younger and in need of discipline. He was a natural caretaker; she reveled in his attention. He was a stickler for self-care; she frequently engaged in self-destruction. So in the year or so since she started at least monthly drives to see him, she'd grown tremendously. He made her feel so good and so special; it was always hard to leave.
And then there were the spankings that came right before she got in her car to leave. He seemed to think if her bottom stung a bit on the way home, it would make her think, and that in turn might eliminate some of those speeding tickets. When he'd met her, she'd been averaging one speeding ticket a month, and had over 35 parking tickets at the university where she worked. That was clearly unacceptable. She was lucky her license hadn't been revoked long ago.
This weekend was different. She'd had one hand spanking before being tucked in the night before, primarily for "good measure" as he put it, but other than that it had been a discipline free weekend. What that meant was that in the past two months she'd avoided moving or parking violations, and any other offenses had been dealt with in other ways -- like an earlier bedtime.
As a bonus reward, he'd let her tag-along to the salvage yard and the grocery store, and he'd let her help work on the car he was restoring. All in all the day had been glorious, as they'd enjoyed each other's company and had a chance to talk about a lot of things they couldn't when all their time together was focused on dealing with her misbehavior.
"Let's go. No arguing, it's time for you to get on the road."
No amount of disagreement would sway him, and he led her to her car.
"You remember young lady. Safe driving all the way home, and I expect a call when you get there."
"Yes sir," she responded, rolling her eyes, only to be rewarded with a playful swat.
It was 197 miles from his door to hers, and the trip was virtually all interstate. Even before she'd met him, she'd driven this route a million times. She knew every mile marker, every exit, and every gas station between.
Mile
marker 469 -- the Dallas/Fort Worth split in Interstate 35
Mile marker 480 -- a Dairy Queen
Mile marker 501 -- the outlet mall at Gainesville
And then the Oklahoma/Texas border
Mile
marker 5 -- Exit to Thackerville
Mile marker 15 -- Exit to Marietta to the broken cookie place
Mile marker 29 -- Exit to Highway 70 going to Madill
Mile marker 31A -- all the fast food restaurants in Ardmore
It was at Mile Marker 42 that her heart stopped. Flashing lights in her rear view mirror. It snapped her back to the present. She'd been lost in thought about the good day she'd had, and had let her mind wander a bit when she'd passed Exit 29...remembering all the years she'd exited there to go to Lake Texoma to see her Papa.
"Good evening, ma'am," the slightly older but very handsome Highway Patrolman said. "May I see your license and insurance verification?"
She fumbled in her backpack to find the license, and then in the glove compartment for her insurance card, and handed both to the officer with trembling hands. The blood rushed to her head, her pulse quickened, and it felt like her chest would explode. A hit from her inhaler staved off stress-related wheezing, but she was so nervous she could hardly stand it.
OHP wasn't like the cops in the hick towns in which she usually got stopped, and they would likely check her license and plates and know she had a weakness for speeding. Even though not all her tickets would show up, enough would and there would be no way she'd be able to weasel a warning.
If it weren't for the fact he would likely be writing her a very expensive ticket in a matter of minutes, the patrolman was actually very handsome and distinguished looking. He definitely filled out his uniform well, and the trooper hat, a Stetson, just added to the image.
"Ma'am, I guess you know why I pulled you over. You were 10 miles over the limit. Interstate limit here is 70, and you DON'T need to be going 80. It's only a few miles until you hit the Arbuckles, and those sections are not straight like around here."
"I'm sorry, Officer," she answered softly, I just wasn't paying attention.
"Judging from your driving record, you seem to have a problem in the attention department. In fact I'd say you're dangerously close to a license suspension."
She looked down, shaking her head. This couldn't be happening. Less than two hours ago, she'd been on his front porch being reminded to be careful driving, and now she was on the side of the road getting ready for another ticket. Even if the state didn't revoke her license, there was no question he would take it away for at least two weeks, allowing her only to drive to work and home.
"No, I suppose I don't have the best record right now, and I know it doesn't seem like much, but it's been two months since I was stopped."
"Two whole months, huh? And you just decided to blaze through my part of the highway. Somebody needs to slow you down little lady, before you hurt yourself or someone else."
"Yes sir."
"I'll be back in a moment."
It was closer to five minutes, but he approached her car again.
"Can you go ahead and step out of the vehicle ma'am? Just step to the back of the car."
She complied, getting more and more concerned.
"Let me see your hands."
What did he think, that she had a gun? She'd been careful to keep them in view and not make any sudden moves, and all the classic "how to get along with police" things. Slowly she held up her hands.
"Hold them out, palms down."
She held them out, unsure of what was happening, only to be startled by his large, tanned hands firmly swatting each of her hands.
"Now ma'am, consider that a slap on the wrist for what I should be doing to you."
She was still in shock, hands stinging, when he handed her a clipboard.
"Sign here. I'm giving you a warning, THIS time."
"Thank you," she answered softly.
"But, I won't go so easy on you if I stop you again on my stretch of highway," and with that he took one of her hands, dwarfing it in his, and gave it one more sharp slap.
"Get on the road, and drive carefully. I'll be watching you."
She pulled out on the road, and felt her mouth go dry every time she thought of the encounter. The patrolman had sounded so authoritarian and stern, but had actually been quite generous to just give her a warning. And she definitely had a strong memory association for mile marker 42.
About 75 minutes later, she was rubbing her hands and holding the warning when she gave an "I'm home safe" call. And about two minutes after that she was explaining what happened and setting herself up for much more than a slap on the wrist.