A Dozen Lessons From A Ticket

BY Joy Corn

Until recently, if you had asked about my driving, I would have proudly touted my nearly

flawless record. All that changed last summer when I fell headlong off my self-erected pedestal. Lesson 1: Pride goes before a fall.

After we moved to a new home, trips to my most-frequented businesses were re-routed of necessity. One July morning, I opted for the shortest route home which put me on Bell Street. I was singing gospel songs with the radio when and thanking the Lord for His goodness when I saw blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror. A glance down at the speedometer revealed “43 mph.” Thinking the speed limit was 35, I took solace, and smiled as I handed him my license and registration. “I would appreciate your giving just a warning this time, officer,” I suggested in my most pleasant voice. “This would be my first ticket in nearly 37 years.” He explained he had no option but to write the ticket since the speed limit was 30 (not 35), and I was exceeding the limit by more than 10 mph. Neighbors had complained about speeders on Bell Street, and the police were responding by ticketing drivers regularly.

Before our move barely one month before, I had rarely ever even been on Bell Street. I didn’t like its curves and hills nor the slim shoulders. I had taken pains to avoid it in the past. I didn’t argue ignorance of the law. I didn’t argue that it was rare for me to be over the speed limit or that I had never had an auto accident. I didn’t argue that I was the backseat driver who kept my husband’s speed in check on a regular basis. None of those points seemed helpful or necessary. I decided I’d just take my punishment, pay the fine, and consider it my contribution to road repair in my county. After all, having not been ticketed before, I hadn’t contributed in the 20+ years I’d lived here. There was concrete evidence that my speed, though not excessive by objective standards, exceeded the limit for that street. I was guilty.

Lesson 2: All sin is sin.

I was surprised to learn that the cost of going 43 in a 30 mph zone was more than $200, but I opted not to go to traffic court and didn’t worry about the offense being on my driving record. After all, I reasoned, one little offense couldn’t make any big difference--my insurance rates were low, and the company would see this lapse in light of

“Sin costs more than you want to pay.”

my extended good driving record.

Lesson 3: Sin costs more than you want to pay.

Lesson 3.5: Pride goes before a fall (round 2) --uh, this lesson didn’t sink in quickly enough.

Fast forward three weeks. Following an extended illness, my husband was finally well enough for me to leave him to make a grocery run. As I left the house, my conscious thought process went like this: Don’t be gone long (husband still weak); shortcut saves time; stay aware of the speed limit and the speedometer. From the moment I turned onto the narrow, dark road and realized there were no streetlights to help navigate the curves, I regretted my decision, but turning around was even more treacherous. The angst was compounded by a pickup truck following me too closely with “brights” glaring in my rearview mirror. I actively monitored my speedometer (“30 miles per hour, 30 miles per hour…”) and the curves, determined not to allow the driver behind to coax me into breaking the speed limit, all the while kicking myself for choosing Bell Street again.

Lesson 4: Steer clear of previous pitfalls.

Five anxious minutes later, I negotiated a hard right turn, wishing for night-vision goggles but was relieved to see my tailgating follower had turned off. My consolation was short-lived, however, because the next sight in my rearview mirror was the blue lights of a police car. He couldn’t be stopping me! I was doing just 29 mph! Where had that officer been when I needed him to cite my tailgater!

Lesson 5: They comparing themselves among themselves are not wise.

I again retrieved my license and registration and presented them when he got to the car window. He said, “I stopped you because you ran that stop sign back there.” STOP SIGN! I never saw a stop sign! Rather than say so, I countered with, “Are you sure?” (I might go a few miles over the limit on occasion, but I ALWAYS stop at stop signs. I don’t even do the roll-through bit I observe others do.) His response: “I’m positive.”

Lesson 6: Assuming only one weakness can blind you to others.

Then, his next question caught me off-guard. “How long since your last moving violation?” I wanted to say, “I have had only two tickets TOTAL in more than 40 years of driving.” But that didn’t answer the question. I answered truthfully, “I got a speeding ticket on this very street just three weeks ago. I was going 43.” He wasn’t impressed with the meagerness of the crime nor was he compassionate. He wrote the ticket.

Lesson 7: He who keeps the whole law, yet stumbles in one point, is guilty of all.

This time I decided to go to traffic court. There was no tangible evidence of the crime. It was my word against his that I had run the stop sign. (I reflected that the “hard right turn” must have been the point of the offense, but I was watching the speedometer, the shoulder of the road, and my tailgater so the traffic sign never came into my field of vision). I could honestly say I did not ignore a stop sign--I didn’t even SEE a stop sign. I rehearsed my spiel for court. My husband’s illness, my good driving record, my conscientious observance of the 30-miles- per-hour limit on the night in question, the guy behind me obviously doing wrong—I had plenty to counter the officer’s accusation. Lesson 8: Excuses don’t excuse.

I asked advice from those who had experience in traffic court. How much would I be allowed to say? They told me my only words had to be “not guilty.” There was no “guilty, but …” plea. There wasn’t an “I sure didn’t mean to” plea or a “the other guy’s headlights created the problem” plea. I couldn’t use the “dark,

winding road” plea, the “right turn on red” plea. I determined that when I got to court I would plead “not guilty.” If the officer was there to testify, that plea would buy the opportunity to rebut his testimony.

Lesson 9: Everyone needs grace.

Not one of the 15 or so traffic offenders on the docket before me pled “not guilty,” but none of them had a stop sign offense. I did hear the judge ask over and over, “When was your last moving violation?” If the offender had a good driving record, the judge would then offer traffic school and the opportunity to keep the offense from their record.

Finally my name was called. I hesitated only briefly, but managed to plead, “Not guilty.” The judge seemed surprised, but humored with the opportunity to do something out of the routine. We established that the officer was not present in the courtroom, but that didn’t mean a dismissal of the charge. I had two options: wait to see if the officer came later that day or reschedule for the next traffic court, to which the officer would be summoned.

There’s no escaping judgment.

Lesson 10: There’s no escaping judgment.

Suddenly my real options became clear. I could no longer negotiate my defense as a driver with a 37-year clear record. The officer had no reason to falsely accuse me, and the judge had every reason to believe the officer’s word over the word of a guilty recent-speeder. I asked, “Are those my only options?” The judge said, “Yes,” but I opted for a third. “I’ll just pay the ticket,” I said.

There was one other factor that might have had bearing. You see, the judge and I had history. His daughter had been my good friend in elementary school. He knew me. He thought well of my parents, my husband, and of me, but I had no current relationship with him. I knew in the context of the courtroom, he had to be objective and deal with my offense like he did everyone else’s.

Lesson 11: Keep your relationship with the Judge current. Negotiate before you get to court.

As I left the courtroom, the Lord impressed on me the

value of the lesson I’d just witnessed. The consequenc-

es I faced due to my guilt reminded me that all our

righteousness is as filthy rags. My only defense before the righteous Judge of the universe will be the blood of Jesus. I can no more claim “Not guilty” in God’s court than I could here. Like my good driving record, past

compliance does not outweigh falling short. The Walt

Mills song lyrics kept serenading me: “If I’m called to give an answer at Heaven’s judgment seat, then let the

blood of Calvary speak for me. May it count me down

as righteous where no righteousness has been, shield-

ing me from wrath and judgment as it covers all my

sin. There’s no work that I’ve accomplished, nor my

goodness I would plead. Just let the blood of Calvary speak for me!”

Lesson 12: Thank the Lord for His mercy and grace!

Joy Corn teaches middle school math at Pleasant View

Christian School in Middle Tennessee. Her family includes

her husband Randy, two sons, two daughter-in-law, and

three wonderful grandchildren. She and Randy attend

Ashland City Free Will Baptist Church, and she remains

active in the Bethlehem Free Will Baptist Women Active

for Christ group. (Excerpts reprinted from Jun, Jul, Aug

2018 Fusion, page 22-25).