— a semi-regular humor column by Maurice Austin —
Was recently pulled over by one of Orcas Island’s finest while on the way to NAPA because my trailer’s starboard side brake light was out. Here I thought I was a master of light, and instead I was a culprit.
I’m pretty religious about trailer wiring, and check my lights every time I hook them up—at least, as far as I’m able. Running lights? Check. Turn signals? Check. But it’s hard to check the brake lights yourself, without an assistant (or deputy) kindly enough to press the brake pedal while you watch. (Yes—Officer Friendly was kind enough to do so.)
One more thing to buy at NAPA, anyway, and luckily they had the light fixture I needed in stock, so I swapped it out in the parking lot, in the same spot the deputy checked my license and registration.
Also luckily, I found that propping a machete between the driver’s seat and the brake pedal verified that it was working properly, not that I would recommend pulling out a machete until the officer has left. We live in interesting times, after all.
[perfectpullquote align=”right” bordertop=”false” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]Nice guy to boot.[/perfectpullquote]
Here I thought myself a master of light. I mean, I regularly seek out those owners of vehicles in the ferry line who have defective vehicle lighting and appraise them of their defects, just to let them know, you know, because it might be that that one bulb, turn or brake or running or whatever, causes an accident, as it shouldn’t, or attracts the attention of law enforcement, as it should. And here I’m tooling around with a defective fixture myself. Alas, the hypocrisy.
Perhaps the most stressful part of getting pulled over was the foundering for paperwork, which was all in order, but buried in piles of out-of-date registration slips and proof-of-insurance notes that made digging through three envelopes frustrating. Fixing the trailer light was easy compared to organizing that mess that is the glove box, which I’ve now done, and even have room for a pair of gloves in there, now that I’ve trashed six years’ worth of expired registration slips and handfuls of expired proof-of-insurance notes, sheesh.
Huge shout out here to the deputy that apprised me of my trailer lighting defect, as such meticulousness is commendable. Nice guy to boot. I hope every Orcas Island motorist has the luck of encountering such a patient and polite officer—and I’m sure many will, as on the way to NAPA I witnessed three moving violations involving failure to signal a turn, and on the way home witnessed two rolling stops and another failure to signal a turn.
Officers here clearly have their work cut out for them and in the future I hope I’m not deserving of their attention. Many of us on these our fair islands remain deserving, however. Please note: there is a stick sticking out from your steering column that, flipped up or down, indicates to other motorists via lighted fixtures on the exterior of your vehicle—if they’re working, which they’d better be, tell you that now—which direction you intend to go, sheesh. It’s not there for politeness’ sake. It’s for safety, capiche?
Glove box a mess? Mine was. Get to it. But first: check all your pretty lights….
