Anyway, I suddenly realized that there were white squiggly marks on the passenger windows in the back seat of my car.
Whats that? How fast was I going while looking at the back windows? Oh, no more than 85… tops!
So, I immediately pulled over and off to the side of the freeway and got out to have a look. There appeared to be quite a few squiggly lines on both my windows, but none on the rear window.
It wasn’t long before this nice highway patrol officer here, pulled up behind me and got out to see what the problem was. He came over and asked, “Flat tire?”
I replied to him calmly, “No.” So then he says to me…
“Oh, engine trouble, huh?” I just had to shake my head in disbelief your honor. I mean, we haven’t had any Indian problems for years—with the possible exception of the Washington Redskins of late. Well, not since the days of the Stanford Indians respectfully changing their name to the Stanford Cardinal.
So I asked your officer, politely of course, “Are you out of your mind? I have no reservations about Indians? That’s NFL owner, Daniel Snyder’s problem!”
I was met with a quizzical look from your officer. I mean, talk about being out of touch. You folks are obviously overworking your people. Your officer apparently has had very little time to read the papers, or watch the news while consuming his daily supply of donuts and coffee.
Anyway, he then asked me, “Well then, whats the emergency?”
Taking into consideration that the poor man has been terribly overworked, I pointed to my rear side windows and said, “Look at that.” he turned to look at my side windows. Then, with this blank expression on his face, he looked back at me and replied…”So?”
So I took time to explain to him, very slowly I might add, so that he would understand every word I said…
I then pointed at my windows again.
Still, your officer seemed out of touch and with a face that could only come from someone having had a full frontal lobotomy he responded to me with, “I don’t see the problem.”
I then took out my cell phone—he then pulled out his gun— and I then called my wife. The officer sarcastically asked, “Calling your attorney?” I told him “No, my wife.” With a smile he nodded his head up and down and jokingly said, “Is she an attorney?” Again I said, “No.” Then he looked down and said…
“Oh… that’s too bad.”
When my wife answered the phone I began to describe to her how the back seat windows looked like they had squiggly lines all across them, even though I had just cleaned the car two days ago.
Naturally, I asked her how that could be?
She laughed and told us, your officer and I, how yesterday she had put our youngest daughter’s dog—his name is Simon—in the back seat of our car so that she could take him to the dog run. She concluded by suggesting that Simon must have ran his nose along the windows while he was looking outside.
I then smiled at your officer, sheepishly of course, and joked “I guess you could say our daughter’s dog… Simonosed my car.”