5-0

I have been pulled over by the police twice in the month of October. Collectively that is more than most people get stopped in 5 years. It appears that there is a fundamental wrong happening with my life.

So, when I was driving back from Atlanta, I forgot to mention that I was pulled over by the Pennsylvania police. So I suppose I should mention this as well then. While I was in London, like seriously my fourth day there, I can check back in my journal to verify, I lost my enhanced drivers license. An enhanced is a step down from your passport. There is a chip inside of it and people can steal your identity. I hope they tried and realized that my credit was shit. So, yes my identity is floating around London somewhere. Hopefully not though, hopefully it is just in the garbage or something. Who knows. You would hope that they would send it through the mail, but considering that was over 8 months ago, nearly 9, I'm pretty sure I am just S.O.L. So with that said, since I have been back in the Americas, I either show my passport as identification or I use an old expired drivers license.

When we are pulled over in Pennsylvania, all I can think is that all I have is my old expired driver's license. Eff. We're going to jail. Not to mention that in the back of the vehicle we have open bottles and possibly some other contraband.

So the cop pulls us over and is shining flashlights in our faces and all I can think about is my expired license that is over seas. On top of not having a current one on my being, I also don't know specifically where it is. All I know is that it is somewhere in my huge huge bag along with an open bottle of Malibu. Not a good look. So registration is being handed over while the cop is shining the light on me along with the interior light of the car as I am searching through my big bag thinking why the hell do I even have such a big bag all while trying not to make anything clink against the bottle in addition to successfully keeping it hidden.

I am having trouble. After about a good five minutes I finally uncover my expired license and sheepishly hand it over. I'm sure that my ears are on fire and I have a flush of red across my face. Dead give away that ish is not up to par aka we're all going to jail huh? Great. Canadians and a lone American. Who do you think they are going the hardest on? It's a toss up.

I forget to mention that the one officer was talking to us, asking us if we know why we were pulled over-which was for doing 74 in a 65, that is only 9 over, he also asks where we are coming from, where we are going. So I tell him, that since the car is Canadian, it is difficult for me to read the odometer since it is in kilometers instead of mph. He takes it into consideration. He also seems to find it quite interesting that we were just in Atlanta for Pride weekend. Apparently he was just down there. Oh how nice. I'm sorry we don't really care. Just run my license, see that I really have one and let's go. I'm over this right now. My hearts all pumping and what not.

So the cop finally leaves. Everyone in the vehicle is talking. Poor passenger friend had to be woken up and is a little upset. Everyone is on edge. I have been driving for like 10/11 hours straight maybe less, probably less, but this incident makes it appear that I have no control over the vehicle any longer. I think there is going to be a switch. But, on top of that awareness, the back-seaters are furiously trying to hide some things by pushing and kicking the items under the seat. All I know is that it has to stop because from the outside it looks like we are either trying to hide things or have spontaneously burst into an all out orgy aka the car is rocking. That makes me nervous, especially since the cops haven't come back yet.

So they finally do come back. They hand me my expired license, tell us to be careful because there have been a lot of accidents due to speeding and send us on our merry way. We can't wait to get to a gas station.

Now about two and a half weeks later I am in the state of New York, in Buffalo and I am learning to drive stick. Oh the joys. I decide that I am not ready to drive on the road yet, but that a big empty parking lot will do. Seeing that it is a Sunday the parking lot at my job seems utterly perfect. Clearly I forgot about the hospital campus police.

So we drive over to the parking lot. We switch seats. I am doing fine with shifting gears and since I seem to have that down pat, it is coming out of first gear that I need to work on since stopping and then starting seems to be the most challenging thing. I go up and down the empty parking lot, stopping and shifting and going and stopping and shifting and going and stopping and shifting and going and although it has been nearly 4 years since the last time that I drove a stick, I haven't stalled once. Because of this, I begin to feel myself getting extra super confident and so I decide that I want to come out of the parking lot into the adjacent one forcing me to have to stop and make some turns instead of only being able to go straight.

This seemed like a good idea until I realized the hospital was in front of me and there was going to be traffic and people and I am clutching in just at the thought of it and stressing out and realizing that this was a mistake and how am I going to make a U turn in this thing. Basically I am stressing out. I see there are cars behind me, but at this moment in time that doesn't matter, at all. I am just thinking about not hitting anything and being able to make full stops and not stall and ... yup. I stall. Great. I also happen to stall right in front of the hospital police who put their lights on and it was just as I had gotten going again so I have to clutch in, brake and eff, this means I need to go into first again.

The officers come over and all I can think is oh my God, please don't smell the eggnog I drank 20 minutes ago. It wasn't even a mugful, but oh my God. Window's down and I get the look. The cop look and the question comes, "So what's going on here." Again sheepishly, I respond that I am learning to drive stick and that I work right there and so I knew the parking lot would be empty and then I got confident and so I thought I could drive down here, but forgot that the hospital was there and...

I clearly sound as if I have been drinking eggnog. Why does he need my life story? All I can think is oh my goodness, stop rambling. Thankfully the guy laughs, probably because he thinks a laugh will calm my nerves and shut me up. He was wrong. Although I shut it, my nerves were frayed. He lets us go, but then I know I have to get the car moving again and I have to turn it around and I'm not sure I can manage.

Now that the police, hospital police at that, have pulled me over, my confidence is shot to hell and I am no longer feeling myself. I stall the car 3 more times and essentially quit, but then I give myself a talking to, sit back down-as I had removed myself from the driver seat-and manage to pull out some good turns and clutch ins and shiftings. Driving stick, not as fun as drag racing makes it seem.

I wonder if November will be this exciting.