Has To Stop)
Excerpts from Kristy:
Note to all chicks in a car: you will at some point in your
life be pulled over by the police, simply because you are
two chicks in a car. I've heard about it, I've read about
it and now, I've experienced it.
Driving from our hotel in Monte Vista desperately in search
of a coffee shop (so I could dislodge the toothpicks holding
my eyes open) a policeman pulls up behind us with lights flashing.
In my blurry morning fog in the passenger seat, I didn't even
I heard Beth mutter, "Uh - we're being pulled over."
To which I replied the obvious, "Why? Were we speeding?"
"I don't think so," she said.
So there we sit and up saunters the policeman who asks, "Do
you know why I pulled you over?"
At this point, I'm glad of two things. First that I'm not
driving, because I haven't eaten yet and I'm feeling very
snappy. And second, well, see the first statement I just made,
I felt like saying, "Just get to the point, so I can
get to my tea already!" (Note to all potential people
traveling with Roadchix: Roadchick K is not a morning person.)
"You were following too closely," reveals our policeman.
Now, my eyebrows are raising and "We're not in the city
anymore girls" is running through my brain.
He wants Beth's license and the car registration. Tearing
out of the Rental Car Lot two days earlier any paperwork we
received has either been tossed in the backseat or is most
likely buried under a pile of maps, guidebooks, directions,
brochures, bags and discarded clothing items.
"Uh, it's a rental car," says Beth, "We have
to look for the registration."
Meanwhile, I'm fruitlessly searching everywhere for any sort
of paperwork in my bookbag, the glove box, the side pockets,
the floor, the backseat, everywhere. Needle in a haystack
would actually sum up the situation.
"Did you look in the glovebox?" queries Beth.
"Yes, no go," I reply.
"Did you look in the glovebox?" asks the officer.
"Yes, it's not there," I answer again.
"How about the side pocket?" asks Beth.
"Nope, not there either," I reply.
"Side pocket?" asks the policeman.
I wanted to roll my eyes. I felt as though I was in a Marx
Brothers film. And for the life of me, I couldn't remember
Advantage handing me anything other than a receipt and a piece
of paper detailing any scratches on the car. Not to mention
that we had temporary tags that ran out in a few days.
Finally, locating the receipt in the bottom of my bookbag,
I hand this to Beth and say that's about all we have. I suppose
I should mention that I neglected to put Beth on the rental
car policy, something that I will never do again. So I am
starting to get a little nervous. Fines from the rental car
agency and a ticket are bouncing through my head. Coupled
with, "This is ridiculous and I'm starving!"
Resigning myself to a night in jail, I pull out a Power Bar,
slump down in my seat and wait for the policeman to process
whatever it is he wants to process in his car.
After a few minutes Beth says, "You can't see this,
but he's just sitting in his car, doing absolutely nothing."
"What do you mean, absolutely nothing?" I ask,
"He has to be doing something like checking our license
plate or calling the station."
"Nope, he's just sitting there," Beth replies.
At which point, he again strolls back up to the car. "Don't
follow so closely girls," he says. "Ok," says
End of story.
End of story, you think? That's a pretty big letdown. No
Roadchix in the Slammer stories? Sorry to disappoint, but
Roadchix don't want to be in the cage. The closest we ever
hope to get is our stop at the Colorado
Territorial Prison Museum.