Driving 30 years; stopped 5 times; ticketed twice

I watched Walter get pulled over at the beginning of the Breaking Bad episode Caballo Sin Nombre tonight, and got to thinking about every time I’ve been stopped. If you’ve been dying for that information, you have just seriously lucked out.

Stop one: In early 1987, I ran the stop sign that was then at Slaughter Road and Madison Boulevard (that was then known as Alabama Highway 20). The immediate cross traffic was a Madison County Sheriff’s deputy. (Remember when they had bronze-colored LTD Crown Vics?) I was driving on my permit with my dad in his company car—a 1985 Oldsmobile Delta 88. The deputy pulled me over. We had a short conversation about how I needed to be more mindful, and he didn’t want to start my driving career off with such a serious citation. Thank you, officer, and we were on our way. I viewed the stop as a rite of passage and something to be proud of, which pissed my dad off.

Stop two: Sometime between the fall of 1987 and the spring of 1988, I took my 1977 Toyota Celica too quickly through the yield lane at the southeast corner of Hughes Rd. and Madison Pike. Madison police officer Earl Lindsey was driving west on Madison Pike when I did so. He did a quick turnaround in what was then the Corner Grocery parking lot, and pulled me over on Cambridge Dr. I was near-comically upset and almost hyperventilated. He gave me a written warning for improper lane usage, and probably muttered to himself the rest of the evening about how soft these kids were these days.

Stop three: 117 in a 55. First ticket.

Stop four: Sometime in 2002, I got frustrated behind a poky grandma on what was then the two-lane portion of Madison Pike heading east into Huntsville on my morning commute. When it went four-lane, I shot my 2000 Honda Accord around her, feeling suitably vindicated, and drove straight into a Huntsville police officer’s radar trap at Quality Circle. He pulled me over on Voyager Dr. I don’t remember his name, but he had great bushy dirty blond hair and a full mustache, like that guy in the band Alabama. “Mr. Williams, can you give me a justifiable reason you were driving 60 in a 45 just now?” “No sir.” Thusly cited. Second ticket.

Stop five: In the spring of 2010, I’d forgotten something at home that I needed for an important afternoon meeting. After a morning telecon, I decided to go home and get it about 9:30. I was northbound on County Line Rd., just descending the north side of the trestle, when Officer Scruggs of the Madison Police Department cut a quick U-turn and hit the lights. I pulled my 2008 Nissan Versa—the Technical Writing Express!—over in a mini-storage unit parking lot. I received a written warning for 60 in a 50. As it was just a warning I didn’t argue, but the officer made a mistake here (whether hitting a different motorist or experiencing a radar malfunction, I couldn’t tell you). As measured by the Scan Gauge hooked up directly to my OBD-II port, I was going exactly 56 mph when I passed him.

So it’s been more than six years—right at the average of my interval. Guess I’m coming due. Better be careful.

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