Close call with Rock Hill Police Department

Every semester I tell my students not to be out and about late at night in their cars in Rock Hill.

"You will be stopped by a police officer, and you will end up getting some sort of ticket," I say.

That's because the police in Rock Hill are bored, especially late at night. They're scouring the community--its byways and highways--looking for trouble.

I guess that's their job--to find trouble and arrest people or fine people.

The rest of my spiel to the students goes something like this: "I, on the other hand, being an older person with gray hair, can be out late in Rock Hill, and even if I'm stopped by an officer, I probably won't get a ticket. That may not be fair, but that's the way it is. . . You get cut a bit of slack (respect?) when you're older... The police just accept that you're probably NOT doing anything illegal..."

Last night I was almost proven wrong.

I had been at the university till about 10:30 p.m.; then had stopped for a snack at McDonald's.

Time I'm driving home it's a bit after 11.

In the rear view mirror, I see a big car suddenly dart out from a side road.

He's close behind me in a few seconds, blue lights flashing.

I pull over to a grocery store parking lot.

After about a minute (maybe he's checking my license plate??), the RHPD officer gets out of his cruiser and slowly, very slowly walks to my car.

Then the request: "Let me see your driver's license and registration."

I give it to him, but really have a hard time finding my registration. I fumble and scrounge through the glove compartment. I find a crumpled document and hand it to him. The window down and cold air and wind biting, I wait while he returns to his cruiser.

He's a nice cop--toboggan on his head, African-American, soft spoken--doing his job.

While he's in his car, checking on this and that, I wait...

I'm pondering what I've often preached to my students: "If I get stopped late at night, the cops in Rock Hill won't give me a ticket, but they will give YOU a ticket. It's not fair, but that's just the way it is..."

He's still in his car. I walk up to his window and say this: "Officer, how fast was I going?"

"You were doing 51. Speed limit is 35."

"I apologize, officer. I always try to obey the law. I wasn't feeling good. I'm tired and I just wanted to get home. I need to take my medicine." (This is all the truth.)

He asks me where I live and why I've been out so late.

I tell him.

He keeps checking and writing.

"I didn't even think my car (a VW Beetle that you see with this blog post) would go that fast," I say.

He laughs.

A good sign.

He hands me a warning ticket.

"You have a good rest of the evening, sir," he says.

I thank him--profusely. And then I promise him that I'll do something, somehow to boost the police department.

That's partly what this blog post is about.

Saying thanks to a good-hearted Rock Hill police officer who gave an old guy a break.

Close call. I don't plan to be on the road at that unseemly hour again. I will be "beddy-by," curled up under the covers, reading myself to sleep. Where I should be and need to be that late in the evening.

Bottom line: Respect the police. Fear the police. Understand the police. Appreciate the police.