For the Joe Fridays out there, here are the facts, just the facts:
- We are unlikely to be in Massachusetts next year until March has come and gone.
- My car inspection sticker expires in March.
What it boiled down to was I needed to s t r e t c h my inspection date to April. So as yesterday’s sun set on March 31st, it also set on my out of date sticker. The plan, of course, was that I would scurry into an inspection station today, April 1st, and all would be well.
Except I really didn’t want to miss my water aerobics group at 8:30, and as luck would have it, I’d already arranged to have breakfast with a friend.
Never have I seen so many cops.
I turned off my street and headed towards Main Street. There smack-dab in front of me was a gentleman in blue stopping traffic. As luck would have it, our town is in the throes of some massive branch-trimming project and the road was down to one lane, necessitating a policeman to stop motorists and let alternate batches through.
I made it past him, but I wasn’t home free yet,
Down Main Street, two more teams.
I repressed the urge to scrunch down in my seat.
I hyperventilated a little at spotting another batch of men in uniforms at the end of Main. But then I realized they were a lawn service crew. I’m obviously not ready for a life of crime.
Go to the YMCA.
Return to Main to pick up friend. Pass the limb trimmers and the fuzz again. I try to emanate a grandmotherly, law-abiding vibe as I go by.
Try another route to the breakfast spot, thus avoiding the major road that I know in my heart is riddled with the law, just waiting for me. The route I choose is a minor road. There parked at a house in front of us is a police car, blue lights flashing. This is it. They’ve got me. However, the drama must have been in the house, because there was no policeman to be seen.
Lovely breakfast, lots of chat, take friend home, again passing the police car with blue lights and one more hard hat/police team.
At last I arrive at the inspection station in the same frame of mind as a medieval English sinner falling through church doors crying “sanctuary!”
Ironically, a few years ago one of us here at home (I have a pretty good idea who, naming no names) forgot to get his car inspected and drove merrily around for two months completely without incident.