Incredulous! I could not believe that he had pulled up behind me with those lights flashing and spinning.  I’d watched him climb awkwardly out of his car, and then he was leaning heavily against my open window. His mustache was in my face and level with my eyes.

Meanwhile, I could hear this cop telling the man sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, that he had rolled through a stop sign.  He was asking him if he knew that he had rolled through a stop sign.  The very familiar man was trying to comprehend what he was hearing, because he knew that he had stopped. 

I knew that he had stopped!!!

Meanwhile I was staring at this bushy mustache, fully assaulted by the details of his close proximity.  There have been times in my life when I was this close to my father’s mustache, but this was different. The mustache hairs were thick and wiry and some of them were literally pointing at me. There was also a bit of something there as well, among the hairs, although with the passage of time I’ve lost details.  I do not recall if this looked like it might have been something left behind from his lunch-time sandwich, or if this was an errant bit of nasal matter from one of those narrow, unfamiliar nostrils that were also way too close to my face.

But I did stop!  I had come to a full stop behind the truck in front of me.  I had no choice,  I had to stop.  Not only had I stopped, but I had looked to my left and to my right and clearly saw the approaching squad car.  I had disregarded him, because there was no reason to pay more attention to him than I otherwise would. 

So why was this man in my face?

I do remember being surprised that the man in my car wasn’t doing a better job of talking himself out of the impending traffic ticket.  The driver was quite familiar to me and I fully expected him to say something both intelligent and helpful on his own behalf, but this man just looked really confused.  I found it easy to feel sorry for him. 

I was full of empathy because I knew that he truly had come to a full stop behind the pick-up truck... who was already stopped at the stop sign.   Unfortunately, when the truck continued left onto the roadway, the man had followed right behind him as well.  He had not rolled to another full stop when he had replaced the truck at what was actually a highway intersection.  He had, instead, simply made the turn as he did every day at this intersection so near his home.   He did what everyone did at that particular intersection.  If they are the first to the stop sign…they stop, but if they are the second or third or even fourth car to line up at the intersection, when the cars begin moving again they simply make the turn.  They do not stop again when they pull even with the actual sign. They should, I know, but they don’t.  He didn’t either… and perhaps had he realized exactly what the problem was at the time, he might have been a bit more articulate in explaining his actions. 

Instead, he just looked confused and slow.   So he got a ticket.

I will most likely present myself to the judge in an attempt to avoid the points and an expensive ticket, but I am even more concerned about the driver.  I don’t know if he is merely being paranoid, but he sees squad cars everywhere these days. 

Since being stopped that day, there seems to be a genuine conspiracy to try to catch him at something again.  Those fiendish, white sheriff's cars are hidden behind bushes and trees and buildings as they search for him.   There is a definite malevolence on the roads surrounding his immediate neighborhood, as they seem to be appearing in greater numbers than ever before.

It becomes even more frightening at night, when he is certain that he can see that damn mustache in the dim light of the squad car’s dash board.  Somehow, he knows that the owner of that wiry mustache is just waiting to stop him again... waiting to stop and get up in his face again.  

I still find it easy to feel sorry for him.