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The Unforgiving Christian
It was just another Tuesday morning and as usual we were running slightly – OK, way behind. To make matters worse we had just missed the light at 221 and Ranchcrest and the two minute wait was beginning to feel like an eternity. My last drop off of the morning, 7 year old son Rob, was squirming in the seat behind me submitting questions at his normally healthy pace of about three per minute.
“Dad, why are there two 221’s?”
“Two 221’s?”
“Yeah two – one, two . . .”
I don’t understand Rob, there are . . . Oh, you mean North and South . . .” The light turned green and we made a left on to 221 South towards the Faith Christian Lower school parking lot. “Well, that’s so drivers know which direction they’re going . . .”
Suddenly, there was a late model brown sedan hugging my back bumper with a very distinguishing characteristic – red and blue flashing lights in its upper window. “Uh oh,” I thought, “did I get so distracted talking to Rob that I drove through that interminably long light?”
There are some things you can hide from your children but a police cruiser in hot pursuit behind you is not one of them. “HEY DAD!” exclaimed rob, “I THINK THAT POLICE MAN WANTS YOU TO STOP!”
“Yes, it would appear that he does . . . “I replied.
“What a lousy place to get pulled over” I thought. Now all these other parents will know what they have suspected all along – that that Revercomb guy is a hard living, out of control, subversive who can’t so much as make it to his son’s school in the morning without getting a ticket. I contemplated taking a left into Cave Spring Middle School but decided to take my beating like a man and pulled into the Cave Spring Baptist / Faith Christian parking lot.
Rob swung back around in his seat, “WOW DAD! We’re REALLY getting pulled over!”
“Yes we are son.” His enthusiasm was not catching. We weren’t so much in full view of the car pool drop off line as part of it. The embarrassment quotient was hitting about 9.7. Thank goodness we were running late, the gallery was a lot smaller than it could have been.
The officer was efficient and professional, though his black stocking cap, ear piece and black aviation style jacket made him look more like a Secret Service agent than county cop. The temperature outside was about 14 degrees.
“Sir, can I see your license and registration please.”
“What’s a reg-er-station Dad?” Rob queried in a hushed but excited whisper.
“Quiet son,” I instructed. I turned back to the officer, “What did I do?” I asked. The question was completely legitimate. I had absolutely no idea.
“Check out that sticker on your window there sir . . .”
Oh, I see it’s a number one . . . I guess I missed it by a day or two . . .
“Sir, that’s a ten – you’re reading it backwards through the glass.”
Noooo . . . You’re kidding me? October?? Well, my goodness, I had no idea . . .”
“Looks like a ten to me,” added Rob.
“Quiet son.”
I turned once again to the officer looking for forgiveness. I noticed his name tag said, “Christian.” Here we were in a church parking lot at a Christian school with an officer named Christian – perhaps forgiveness would be a fitting end to the story. But before I could make my plea, Officer Christian advised me to go on and drop Rob off and meet him on the other side of the car pool line. This didn’t bode well – he was investing even more time in the case. I had the feeling that this was going to end more along the lines of “don’t spare the rod.”
Sure enough, Officer Christian proved to be a faithful young man who knew I would grow up to be a far better person if I were properly disciplined and instructed along the way. That is to say he summarily wrote me up. The total charges would be $86.00 - $51.00 of which would be a “processing fee.” Officer Christian remained professional, albeit unforgiving, taking the time to read me everything but my Miranda rights. He then added very thoughtfully at the end, “You know, sometimes if you take a sticker violation like this to the courthouse and show them that you had it corrected within a day or so, they’ll wave the charge . . . You might want to give it a try.”
Maybe the officer had a little New Testament in him after all.
I had the Tahoe inspected that afternoon and took the evidence that I had corrected my sinful ways to the Roanoke County Courthouse in Salem two days later. It was the most amazing court experience I have ever had. (Not that I spend an inordinate amount of time in such places, but thirty years of driving has produced, shall we say, the occasional ticket.) The people were incredibly friendly – not only did they make a copy of my inspection slip at no charge but they said they would be happy to present it to the judge and get back to me if there were any problems. When I left I had the feeling they would have made me a ham and swiss on rye if I had asked.
Contrasting that to my experiences in the City would be like sitting Heidi of Switzerland down next to Attila the Hun . . . Sweet forgiveness verses unfettered wrath. I’ll just leave it at that.
The jury is still out in this matter, as the Judge has yet to be presented the evidence of my newfound ways, but if Officer Christian’s professionalism and the County Clerk’s friendly staff are any indication, I think I’ve got a good chance of avoiding any hard time.
You’ve just got to love Salem and the County – they do so many things right – and even when it’s something as simple as an inspection sticker, they know a little forgiveness can go a long way!
- Stuart