Peter of the pack

Good morning, everyone, and welcome to another Monday here at UOPTA. Last week, I wrote about getting pulled over a couple of times by the police. I said there were more times, and I'm a man of my word. I recall another from back in the day that I wish to share with you all, if you'll indulge me.

My senior year of high school, I became very active in the drama department. I was in a couple of plays and some festival scenes that I've briefly mentioned in this space before, and I really enjoyed being a part of that community. So when our teacher wanted to organize a trip to drive to Ashland, Oregon for the Shakespeare Festival, I was among the first to be totally on board with it.

And so it was, after a bunch of planning of our teacher's end that a group of about 15 of us were set to embark on the drive from Los Angeles to Ashland. There were five cars going in total, and we eagerly met up early in the morning at our high school to load everything into the vehicles. After half an hour of trying to force and shove everything in there, we ended up tying a bunch of luggage to the tops of the cars. Now might be the right time to mention that four of the five were to be driven by crazy teenagers. Does that sound like a dangerous recipe to you? Oh, you're wise, gentle readers.

I was joined in the car I was driving by three young ladies from our Play Production class, while Dusty, our teacher, and two classmates helmed the others. I'm a fairly cautious individual, and I was pretty nervous about getting on the road for a few reasons. One, I was driving my dad's car instead of mine since it had more storage. Two, I'm horrible with directions and this was in a land before cell phones. We were forced to communicate archaically by holding up signs in our windows. "FOOD????" etc. Three, this was hands-down the longest driving trip I'd ever taken. And four, I really didn't put too much faith in the way the luggage was tied onto the roof and was having terrible visions of possible consequences.

The time came, and we were off in a cloud of dust. Technically, we were off in Dusty's dust, as he sped away faster than even I anticipated. "Uh oh," I thought, "I hope I'm not going to be speeding for the next several hours." It was a dilemma: either I speed with the rest of the group and feel anxious the entire time about being pulled over, or lose the rest of them and end up somewhere in Wyoming. I opted for a modified version of the former: I would speed with the other cars, but try to refrain from being last in the pack in case a cop went after that person.

After less than an hour on the road, it became evident that my plan wasn't going to work. I was in the back of the group, driving as cautiously as possible while still keeping the others in view. While in my view, two of the cars thought it would be fun to drive recklessly. The teacher's car had to stop somewhere, and Dusty and I stayed back as the other two confirmed all suspicions that teenage drivers are morons. One car passed a water bottle to the other through the open windows at 80mph, they tailgated each other, and generally behaved idiotically.

And then, I said the following sentence aloud: "Uh, there's a policeman behind me...and he just turned his lights on." I was pissed off. Here I was, trying to drive carefully while my peers were being jackasses, and I'm the one getting pulled over. I slowed and went to the shoulder and waited for the officer to walk up. I knew I had been speeding, so I resigned myself to the fact that I'd be getting that ticket. Anything else though, and I was going to kill my classmates.

"How are you all doing today?" the officer asked. "Fine, sir," I replied. "Looks like your buddies left you," he said. He was right: the other cars had all continued on their way, thereby meaning that I would be getting both a ticket and completely lost. Fantastic. "Where are you headed?" he asked. "Our drama class is going up to Oregon for the Shakespear Festival, sir," I told him, without that slightest hint of kissassery in my voice. He paused for a minute, then asked very matter-of-factly, "Do you have any beer in your car?" "Beer? No, why would - no, of course not, sir." My subtext was perfect: we're not old enough to drink beer, so I'm confused as to why one would ask me that. We didn't have any alcohol, but I wanted him to be very clear that we were good kids.

"And how's the drive been going so far?" he continued. "Ok, although I was concerned that the luggage on top wasn't stable enough. Does it look ok now?" He took a look, and very bravely, I got out to check with him. He helped me tighten one of the straps and said we should be set. I got back in and wondered how the next part of conversation would unfold. "We got reports that there were some people driving crazy around here, ya know, passing things to each other and stuff like that. Have you been a part of that?" "Absolutely not, officer," I said, full of resolve and conviction. (Maybe 'conviction' isn't the best choice of words, come to think of it.) He stared at me for a second, and then ominously asked, "So what now?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at, so I presented the scenario I wanted to see the most: "Well, sir, we will proceed cautiously and at moderate speeds and then enjoy our time on our school trip." To my surprise, he nodded, and then said, "Ok, just drive carefully and stay out of trouble." "We will, sir, thank you. And thanks again for your help with the luggage."

I merged back onto the freeway, and my passengers and I all relived the experience word by word to make sure we had the specifics down pat for when we were inevitably asked by our peers. Speaking of those bastards, they hadn't actually ditched us as much as I thought. Instead, they were waiting at the next onramp to get on when they saw us approaching. The rest of the drive went pretty smoothly, and when we stopped for food, I made sure I had complete directions so that I wouldn't freak out if I lost track of the speed demons.

The trip itself was fun and might get its own mention on UOPTA one day. More importantly for this post, the ride back was almost completely uneventful. The highlight was stopping at an Arby's in Lodi and me chastising my car-mates for not knowing the CCR song about that city.

So there you go, friends. It was a near miss with the law that should never have even happened in the first place. Slow and steady wins the race, my ass. Have a great Monday, and I'll see you back here tomorrow.