Traveling from the Cities to the farm near Russell, the kids were seated in the back of the van acting silly, when they were supposed to be dozing off (or so our dream goes). They were actually making these playful little faces, peeking at me in the rear view mirror. These were those faces that you find it hard to deploy your discipline and order upon. There are other faces that have different results, to be sure.
We were about an hour into the trip and rolling toward the city of Henderson. As we entered the town, I continued to give the kids an audience in the mirror, which only fueled their creative expressions.
Not paying attention to what I should be, I crossed the line marking the city limit of Henderson at 41 mph in a 30 mph zone. About a block in we picked up a squad car in tow. Even though his lights were on, we just kept going. I had no idea he was even back there. My rear view mirror was adjusted so I could see the kid’s faces.
After passing through nearly the entire town and nearing the border on the other side, we heard the curious chirp of a police siren. We wondered, as we looked around, who could be getting busted in this little town? Of course, I realized that we were the criminal element in focus when I caught a glimpse of the squad in my side mirror.
Despite growing up in the country near numerous small towns, I had forgotten the sorts of “enforcers” one could discover in tiny town Minnesota. I think you know what I mean. Often, we seem to have the recent grad from police school USA, who is in the early stages of a long and distinguished career. He is going to work his way to the big time, the FBI, the NSA or whatever, by making his mark on some 800 unsuspecting German or Norwegian descendants in tiny-town Minnesota. If we don’t have that guy, we have the guy nearing retirement, who is looking for a calm place to finish out his career and a good bakery. But we usually have the former.
The enforcer exited his car and I noticed that his arms were raised a bit unnaturally at the elbows as he proceeded toward my window. I refer to this unnatural “raising” as Latissimus Absentimus syndrome. It is a condition I have seen a great deal of on the WWF wrestling programs whereby the bulging Latissimus Dorsi muscle (see diagram farther down this page) causes one’s arms to not hang straight down. Although, the scenario I just described is actually NOT Latissimus Absentimus Syndrome. Latissimus Absentimus is when one doesn’t have the bulging muscle (it is absent), yet the arms mysteriously raise up anyway, fooling us all into a state of trembling and awe, despite the presence of daylight under the arms to the contrary.
I remember we had some severe outbreaks of Latissimus Absentimus at Russell-Tyler High. The thinner victims wore sleeves and the heavier fella’s went sleeveless, as if we could not tell that those were not muscles rolling on their arms. We had one lineman on the football team that was infected with Latissimus Absentimus so badly, that we gave him a specially modified set of football rib guards (double thickness) that he could strap on under his arms to provide the lift he was looking for. He didn’t find it as appealing as we were hoping.
Meanwhile back on main street Henderson . . . the afflicted officer arrived at my window, squaring up to the side of the van. He immediately spieled, “I’m sorry, but we’re using the radar all day today . . .” and “ . . . I don’t have any choice on this.” I looked around for the “we” he mentioned, but didn’t see the other members of the Henderson Posse.
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| I had the impression that “the radar” he was referring to wasn’t the radar that every officer in the United States uses on a daily basis. Instead, he spoke of it as if it were a secret weapon of the City of Henderson, used only for big sting operations like on this day. I assured him that I understood. I also explained that I didn’t pull over sooner because I didn’t notice him behind me with my mirror adjusted to watch silly kid faces. He indicated he knew exactly what that was like, implying he had kids. I then indicated that I wasn’t in a hurry at all, but wouldn’t be surprised if I were a little over at the speed change.
I think he reiterated three more times about the special radar and his lack of a choice in the matter of giving me a ticket vs. a warning. While he was repeating this mantra, the kids kept saying “hi” from the back of the van, each self-introducing by name. He would pause and say “hi” back to them. He was clearly trying to pacify any pleas for mercy we might have been conjuring up. That secret radar technology seemed to be giving the orders around there. He took my license and went back to his squad for the radio check of my information.
My wife, Holly, indicated that she had placed her book entitled, The Heart of a Mother on her lap in such a way so that the officer could see the title. She thought maybe the title might warm his heart in some way that day. I chuckled as I realized her manipulative intent. Of course I wasn’t any better, mentioning the kids silly faces and being quick to admit potential wrongdoing. Had he not repeated the “no choice” mantra four times, I would have tried several more ideas to win the enforcer over, so he was on the right track trying to preempt me. I told Holly that it wasn’t looking good in light of the raised elbows, secret radar technology, and lack of choice for the enforcer.
Of course, the kids are in the back with a lot of questions. We didn’t really let them in on the fact that their parents were lawbreakers. Instead, we implied that the officer just wanted to chat and how fun was that?!
The enforcer returned, still bearing the effects of Latissimus Absentimus. His opening statement was, “That’ll be the last time you get one of these from me”, as he handed me my license and a written warning. Ohhhhh, was I surprised. You would have thought that someone in the posse would have stopped him from folding his cards, but I guess they were not only invisible, but also very passive. We responded with appreciation and went on our way.
What was the key to our good fortune? Was it the “Heart of a Mother” title as my wife contends? Was it the playful greetings from the kids? How about the silly face-watching father who had his mirror out of position? Or what about his swift acceptance of possible guilt? Who knows? For all we know, the enforcer’s radio was probably on the fritz again, having been long overdue for replacement because their entire budget was used on the secret radar technology.
I’m sure he just doesn’t get much of a rise out of busting mini-vans carrying families across Minnesota. That sort of activity won’t get him to the FBI. He probably just wanted to get us on our way, so as not to miss that big bust he’s been preparing for.
Holly wanted you to know that the “Heart of a Mother” is now available in paperback.
That’s my report from the “Big City”.
Brian in the Big City
Employee #0090698
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