They are big, long, straight and well maintained (most of the times).
Heavenly roads...
So what is more heavenly than to drive 75 miles an hour at the highway and enjoy the music and the flashing by of the road markers…
Actually nothing, until you see a nice white and blue marked car, spinning around on the opposite lane and turn on nice red, white and blue lights…
And as a “new” citizen of this country it is very hard to recognize those cars and slow down in time because they can be green and white or gray and black or white and black. VERY CONFUSING, it would be much easier if they were just all the same!?
Heavenly roads that you can't see...
So I slowed down, and pulled over. The policeman in question gets out of his car with of course his sunglasses on and walks his very manly walk over to my car. Well it was my mom and dad’s car so I was still fumbling true the glove compartment to find the insurance papers.
“PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!” he yelled. "Oh my gosh, sorry sir". If I wasn’t sweating like a little piglet before, I was now! How am I supposed to know that you are NOT allowed to fumble in your glove compartment for you insurance papers???
“Hand me your driver’s license”. Hmmmmm, I didn’t have one, as in an American one, and the Dutch one I had was in MY car at MY house. "Sorry, sir".
“What is your name?” Well it is Leontien Oostdijck, but it probably is in your computer Leontien van de Laar (I just got married you see). It is never a good idea to tell more information to the police officer, I found out. "So sorry, sir".
Heavenly roads old style...
“What is your Social Security Number?” Hmmmmm, I don’t know. … I knew but I am so flustered that I just CAN’T remember the numbers. "Even more sorry, sir".
“What your address?” And yes, I even messed that up by giving him my house address street name and number but the farms town and zip code part of the address . With a very red head, sweating like a maniac, sorry sir.
After these 4 questions and me giving wrong or no answers too all of them the policeman got a little nervous.
He walked away to his car with my mom and dad’s insurance card, and after 20 minutes he came back. In those 20 minutes I already pictured myself in an orange jumper in the Fort Wayne jail, getting one phone call, trying to explain too Bastiaan why I ended up there. It is not uncommon that they put our Hispanic employees straight in jail if they don’t have the proper ID’s so I figured I would have the same faith.
He looked at me, handed me a ticked for speeding!?!
Roadsigns that made it all the way over the
ocean...
He told me it would take him too much time to tow my car, do all the paperwork and book me so I got lucky?!? I needed to promise him to go get my Indiana drivers license and never leave the house without proper id AND memorize my Social Security Number.
No jail, no orange jumper again (Like in Worst plane rides ever) just a ticked and a warning. I couldn’t believe my ears.
I mumbled a “YES SIR” and went on my merry way.
Without passing the speed limit...
At least for that day...
