My family and I went down to Houston this past weekend so we could help little Victoria, my niece, celebrate her 1st birthday. We went down on Saturday just to come home on Sunday. Which wouldn't be so bad, except this drive is longer than a three-hour tour. Add some kids and pit stops and stops to eat and you have a long drive. (5-6 hours usually.) So, I was a bit, oh, enthusiastic in my driving on the way home. You know, the faster you pull off that bandaid, the less it will hurt.
Too late I saw the white car with its lights mounted on top. Ugh! Even though I slowed to a respectable 70 (in a 60 mph) I was still greeted by my own firelights show. Hmmm . . .
I could have given the officer a line about how I have a lead foot . . . inherited from my police officer father, but I didn't. He asked why I was going so fast. I just giggled and said because I just wanted to get home.
Maybe it was my brute honesty. Maybe it was the fact that my husband and mother-in-law and three children were in the van and he could see that I would lose my mind (or my husband might have it in for me) if I got a ticket. Whatever it was, I got off with a warning. Whew!
I drove home a little less enthusiastically, but miraculously we made it home in one piece and with our sanity in tact!
Let's just say that I don't have any future drives planned down to Houston any time soon.
