Wednesday, March 19, 2014
TRAFFIC TICKET
TRAFFIC TICKET
Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55
zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only
partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some
other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of
his car, the big pad in hand.
Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was
worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop catching a guy from his own
church. A guy who happened to be a little anxious to get home after a long
day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd
never seen in uniform. "Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules
a bit-just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane said
something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our
precinct."
Ouch! This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"
"Seventy-one. Would you sit back in your car, please?"
"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely
nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket."Please, Jack,
in the car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it
shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The
minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for
a driver's license? Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays
before Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded
paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough
room for Bob to pass him the slip.
"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his car without a word.
Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper.
How much was this one going to cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some
kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket.
Jack began to read: "Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was
six when killed by a car. You guessed it - a speeding driver. A fine and
three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters. All
three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven
before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've tried to forgive that
man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it
again. Even now. . . Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have
left. Bob"
Jack twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the
road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he, too,
pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a
surprised wife and kids when he arrived.
Life is precious. Handle with care.
-- Author Unknown
<>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <><
Visit our website at: http://www.emailministry.org
-- Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55
zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only
partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some
other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of
his car, the big pad in hand.
Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was
worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop catching a guy from his own
church. A guy who happened to be a little anxious to get home after a long
day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd
never seen in uniform. "Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules
a bit-just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane said
something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our
precinct."
Ouch! This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"
"Seventy-one. Would you sit back in your car, please?"
"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely
nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket."Please, Jack,
in the car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it
shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The
minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for
a driver's license? Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays
before Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded
paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough
room for Bob to pass him the slip.
"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his car without a word.
Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper.
How much was this one going to cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some
kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket.
Jack began to read: "Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was
six when killed by a car. You guessed it - a speeding driver. A fine and
three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters. All
three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven
before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've tried to forgive that
man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it
again. Even now. . . Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have
left. Bob"
Jack twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the
road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he, too,
pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a
surprised wife and kids when he arrived.
Life is precious. Handle with care.
-- Author Unknown
<>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <>< <><
Visit our website at: http://www.emailministry.org
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