Little Kari is growing up
Little Kari is growing up.
And nobody saw it coming. Not the police, my mother, my husband and certainly not the car tags office. But for the first time in my life I got my car inspected and renewed its sweet tags the same month they were due.
I think we should all clink glasses on that one, then take a cab.
For historical record, in the 40 years I’ve been driving the number of times I’ve gotten a ticket or warning for expired tags equals the number of times I didn’t get a ticket. And I cannot count the number of times I waited eight months to pay full price for tags that would only be good four months.
My brain sees no problem with that, but most police departments do.
Even the person who took my money seven months late for last year’s tags gave me the look and asked if I’d been stopped or gotten a ticket. A serial reoffender, I think is what they call us, and I think she was reading the notes contained in my formidable personal record.
Several years ago I was stopped by the police for, among other things, speeding. I know, nobody else was shocked either. The timing was impeccable, as that year I was only five months overdue on my tags and inspection.
By the time he was finished writing warnings and actual tickets I was pretty sure the only thing he hadn’t cited me for was a body in the trunk. But did I learn my lesson? Apparently so, because the following year, I was only four months late.
Bolstered my my budding maturity, the following year I decided I had earned a break and took a full eight months, with my annual reminder from local law enforcement.
But I was never once on time except for this year, and I’m positively glowing from the personal growth.
My dance with tags and the police has been the circle of life for me, and it ended this year. I don’t know what they’re going to do with all their free time.
One time, I got pulled over for expired tags at 8 o’clock in the morning in Wichita Falls. The safest place to go was into the Target parking lot, and when I parked I realized that the officer had called for backup. I remember thinking that they take car tags more seriously in Wichita Falls than any other city I’ve ever been stopped in.
When I told my husband about my surprisingly responsible actions last week he was even more excited and surprised than he usually is when I remember to shut a cabinet door.
What’s next for me is yet to be seen. I may start flossing twice a day, or learn to crochet. For now, we need to pump the brakes on that and just appreciate this moment of growth ..... That will last a whole year before we see how mature I really am.
