Here I am in front of my beloved Nissan - purchased right out of grad school and lovingly driven for 16 years. I've never had a ticket (knock on wood), but apparently my car has been attracting attention lately. Two weeks ago, I was two blocks from home, on my way to work. I stopped (or thought I did) at a stop sign, right in front of a police car. I wondered why he was there - thought he might be visiting someone in the home. He followed me after I turned left and then flashed his lights after a couple blocks. I couldn't imagine why. Then the nice young man proceeded to ask me if I knew what a Missouri stop was - I had no idea. I guess in a stick shift, one does start to roll through stop signs and not realize it. I only received a warning (with my clean record), but it took a couple hours for my heart rate to go down.
Then last night, I was heading back from a tennis match in a different part of town and saw two police cars stopped. After I drove by (definitely under the limit), one car turned and followed me a couple blocks. Then the lights flashed. I guess I am becoming so experienced at this that my heart was used to it and the beats didn't increase at all. Another nice young man - turned out one of my headlights was out. I had no idea, but thanked him and he sent me on my way.
Now Hubby hasn't been that helpful. I called him after the first incident, to let him know that the police were really watching in our neighborhood and to make sure he didn't speed or pause at stop signs. He asked if I'd been pulled, and when I muttered "yes," he started laughing. I hung up the cell immediately. And then last night I called and said I needed him to go immediately to the auto parts store and purchase a right headlamp. He asked why, and I told him, and he started laughing again. I won't print what I said, but I said it, and then hung up on him again.
Sonny Boy thinks my car looks like I'm a wild teenager and that's why they're pulling me. I just hope this is the end. Guess I should drive the hated minivan more often.