| Close to Nowhere By Linda Jones Confessions of a lead foot My confession this week is that I have a serious lead foot. Not
long after we moved to Mississippi, I discovered that Hwy. 7, between
Holly Springs and Oxford, is not the place to speed! Since we live just
off Hwy. 7, about halfway between the two towns, this was an important
lesson. I discovered this over a period of about two years — and three speeding tickets. After
a really nasty letter from the driver’s license people, warning me that
a fourth ticket would make them suspend my license, I learned how to
use my cruise control and, more importantly, I quit speeding (at least
on Hwy. 7). And, I’ve remained ticket-free since!
I did accidentally talk my way out of a ticket one time — my
granddaughters were much younger and I was driving them to school one
morning and they were driving me crazy. They’d
argued all morning after their mom left for work and were continuing
the squabbling in the back seat. I was ranting and raving at them when
blue lights flashed in my rear view mirror... When
the very nice highway patrolman came to my window I was still fuming. I
apologized to him for speeding and was going on and on about the girls
arguing in the back and I wasn’t paying attention to my speed and just
generally still ranting. He must have had children. He smiled, handed me my license back, told me to be careful and let me go. The
girls, who had been sitting in the back seat frozen in place because
they thought I was going to jail, didn’t say another word the entire
way to school! I come by the lead foot honestly — it’s inherited from my sister in Missouri. Jackie,
who is a tad bit older than I am (82), is still a speed demon. While
she was recovering from recent heart bypass surgery, we were visiting
her and the granddaughters absolutely love to go to Lambert’s and get
“throwed rolls!” Driving down all those back
roads (she lives in a very rural, farm area also) at night, 70ish miles
an hour is stimulating! Fortunately, she’s an excellent driver, so I’m
never scared. Tuesday morning a very nice highway
patrolman pulled several cars over on Hwy. 7. I just happened to be
driving one of those cars... He got me at 70 in a 55. All morning, I’ve been moaning — I know better than to speed on 7! Apparently, I needed a very expensive refresher lesson. Sigh...
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