spwilcen
Through L.A. I was cruising.
(Slang for Lower Alabama.)
Headed home from Baton Rouge,
To my place outside Savannah.
In the mirror, bright lights flickered on
When the sheriff’s car behind me
(Outta nowhere seemed to come)
To become a Christmas tree.
Up walked a deputy – a big and burly dude,
Dark glasses and a Stetson’s what he wore.
When he pulled me over that Saturday
On State Route forty-four.
“You know sir, why I stopped you?”
He asked me all polite.
“No sir,” I replied, “Ain’t got half a clue.”
(Of a sudden stupidly contrite.)
“‘Well sir,” he said, “my radar says that you,
Was cruising past at fifty-five.”
“About right,” I said, “so that means,
Your radar and I jive.”
“Problem sir,” he said, “speed limit here is forty.”
I tried to argue politely, tried so not to whine,
But I gotta tell ya – as I said to him,
“Don’t recall seein’ no such sign.”
My license and my paperwork, he
Took to jaw some on his radio.
Back, he smiled, tipped his hat and said,
“All in order here, you are good to go.”
“Be careful now, be watchful for those signs.”
Then the man went on to say,
“Keep that speed at forty,
And have a real nice day.”
I’d heard tales of backwoods towns,
Of their speed traps I’d been told.
So this messed my mind a little bit,
Just a few miles down the road.
I turned my car around,
Instead of heading on my way,
Just to see if I was crazy,
Or this was my lucky day.
“Welcome, Friend to Gomer’s Gap,”
By gum, the sign did clearly say.
“Keep your speed here under forty,
“And come back when ya’ll can stay.”
© spwilcenski 2021
spwilcenwrites 10/22/2021 “Speed Trap – October 22, 2021”
Ramblings 