Speeding Secrets Span Across the State

We had too many miles to go to reach the deadline given to us by Mom and Dad. The party had gone well but we lost track of time. Usually in fifteen or twenty minutes, we were ready to go, but tonight’s groups of kids were too much fun to leave. We had less than fifteen minutes to drive almost twenty miles plus a town to drive through, and our folks wanted us home before midnight.

My twin brother decided a heavy foot was the cure for allowing us to reach our destination on time. Several miles later, a bubbling red light was seen in the rear view mirror of the car. He knew another speeding ticket would mean bad business for him with our dad. He had collected speeding tickets several weeks in a row, now I understood how and why.

“Oh man! Where did he come from? Dad will have a cow.”

“Slow down.”

“I can’t. I have to get rid of him. You pray while I drive.”

He turned onto a dirt road and shut off the car lights then drove across the acre of land parallel to the highway. While we were turning back on the highway, we cold see his flashing red light turning off the highway.

“Turn your lights back on.” I yelled. I knew he was well acquainted with this area, and I also got the feeling this was not his first time to ditch the policeman following us.

“It will buy us some time.”

We were almost to town, but slowing down, we could see the red light gaining miles behind us. I was silently wondering how I would get out of being in trouble also. I knew he was in trouble if he had to tell our dad he got another speeding ticket. My dad’s philosophy was: if you were in trouble’s company, you were guilty.

“Duck. Maybe this will help us lose him for good.”

He turned down a side road and again turned off the lights on the car. I watched as he drove into a used car lot. For a moment, I thought he was quite creative and clever, but then remembered why his creativeness was wanting me to duck down in the seat. We really were in for it when Dad heard about this. I wanted to raise up and see what was going on but at that

moment we heard his siren blare by.

We laughed. This trick was meant to share with just each other. We waited for an eternity before we drove off and started the eight miles we had left to drive home. I watched in front of the car and behind the car while he drove down the road. We tried to concoct a story to tell Dad for we both knew he would be waiting up for us. When he said midnight, he did not mean fifteen minutes after or even ten minutes after. He meant straight up and down midnight.

“Let’s just tell him the truth.”

“Do you want me to die? I thought being my twin meant something to you.”

We decided to tell him we had a flat tire. All was well. When we got home, the house was dark. Still, we were leery. We both made it to our rooms with no confrontation but sleep did not come for me until almost time to get up.

“Your car has a flat tire on it,” Dad said at the breakfast table.

“We had one last night. I wonder if the spare was flat.”

Never had we fooled this man, but perhaps once in a century was good. We shared this secret for the rest of my dad’s living days.

Many years later, my husband and I moved across the state. We went to a big basketball game, the game of the year, and when we walked into the gymnasium, there sat the policeman my twin brother and I had bamboozled that night after a Senior party. I could not believe my eyes.

He watched me. Finally, he walked over to me and asked, “Are you Carol Luckett?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever live in Estancia?”

“Yes.”

“Is Harold your brother?”

“My twin.”

I knew he wanted to ask more questions, but I knew I’d better be careful. He was still wearing a police officer’s uniform. I told him I had business in the lobby. Perhaps we did not fool my dad with this story nor the officer.  As I watched him, I decided he knew we ditched him somewhere and he was still trying to find out where.

© Carol Dee Meeks