My husband is a risk taker. A law-breaker.  A rebel.  He’s on the cusp of being a criminal. A felon. A wanted man.  America’s Most Wanted.  Public Enemy #1.  He makes the Fonz, James Bond, Samuel L. Jackson, and all the guys from the Expendables look like a bunch of sissies.


Come here and I’ll tell you.




It was a dark and stormy night.

Ok, it was actually a really nice night, a balmy 72 degrees, around 9:45 PM.  We stopped at Walmart after a Band Show to see how many elegantly dressed people we could see (zero) and upon leaving we got into the left hand only lane. Our left hand only lane has a left hand only arrow.  We were first in that lane and were kind enough to stay really far back to allow a ginormous truck make a ginormous wide turn into our lane so as not to kill us.

We’re like saints, us Whos.

There is a police car behind us.  Now, I should mention that this police car was also in the Walmart parking lot when we arrived.  He was at a stop sign, and we were pulling left into a spot (without a blinker), and kinda sorta drifted in front of him as he began to come towards us.  My husband noted later that this policeman had been parked near our spot when we left our esteemed place of shopping wonderment.  Perhaps the following event was revenge.

As our left hand only lane, left hand arrow turned its left hand green, we turned left and proceeded to go home.  Mr. Who looked into his mirror and said: “Hey, there’s that policeman behind us…and hey! he’s pulling us over!”  I didn’t believe him, because we weren’t doing anything wrong.  We didn’t have the usual goings on in the car: open containers of alcohol, illegal firearms, toddlers flying willy nilly in the bed of the truck, me mooning the town, and we weren’t speeding.  But alas, he was pulling us over.  We turned into the Chipotle parking lot, and for one second, I wondered if I jumped out to get some guacamole (and you knows how I loves it) if there would be an episode of COPS devoted to us.

Officer I.M. Bored came to the car, asked for the usual stuff that’s stuck somewhere in your wallet, then went back to his car.  We still had no clue why we were pulled over.  He came back and shined a flashlight made from the sun itself  in the car: “Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?” Mr. Who shrugged and said no.  “Back at the light at Walmart, you failed to turn on your left hand turn signal.” My husband just said: “Ahh.”  That’s it.  That’s why he’s like Cheech, man.  Or Machete.  He’s so cool.  I would have said something like: “What? Really? Seriously? But it’s a left hand only lane!”  Then seconds later I would have been face down, spread eagle across the front of my car, being read my rights. Yeah, I know I have the right to remain silent, I just don’t think it’s possible…

The officer went back to his car, and we burst into snorting gigglecoughs.  I muttered how ridiculous this was, and that I thought turn signals were more of a courtesy than a law (yes, I know, I’m wrong).  Mr. Who is dying over here.  “Of all the times in my youth I should have been pulled over, this is what I get it for.”  More gigglesnorts.

He came back to let us know he’s being generous and gave us a verbal warning, but if Mr. Who was pulled over again, the computer would show this warning. Then he gave us 40 somethings, been driving for over 48 years combined, a piece of advice: “Now you make sure to use your turn signals out there.” Oh. Kay.

Now, normally, a story like this takes a second or two to tell. It’s not that big of a deal, people get pulled over for things all the time.  But Mr. Who and I lead a bit of a toddler centered life, so getting pulled over by the police is pretty darn funny.  We were like Mickey and Mallory without all the killing of people.

Plus, my husband looks totally hot calmly rooting through his wallet for his license and proof of insurance.