The Longer I Think About It

Sometimes, the longer you think about something, the angrier you get about it. Not really what I want to be doing, but here I am.

We had a busy day yesterday. We were both up before dawn to try to get the work done because we had a very full schedule.

And since where we were and what we were doing isn't relevant to what happened, we'll just skip that part. Let's just say that we were both exhausted, it was nearly 11 pm and we decided to go home and skip the party.

When we turned onto our street, we saw the flashers turn on behind us.

"Were we speeding?" I asked Mark.

"No."

"What do you suppose he wants? Surely the tail light isn't burned out again."

"We'll just have to see."

The officer come up to the window and asked for driver's license and insurance. Mark's driver's license was easily accessible, but a search of the glove box was only turning up Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupons - no insurance card. The officer didn't want a coupon but agreed to look up our insurance info online.

He came back, after what I thought was a lengthy absence to tell Mark that he hadn't stopped "on the white line". Apparently your wheels are supposed to be on the white line if there is one at a stop sign.

Then he asked us where we were going. We told him we were going home and he returned the driver's license along with a warning and we were free to go.

Okay. It all sounds benign. But if he was behind us, how could he tell whether our front wheels were touching the line? It was dark and it was raining. We'd made a full stop, not a rolling stop. I don't know whether we stopped "on the white line" or not. We stopped where we could see if anything was coming - which is particularly important when oncoming traffic doesn't have to stop. And "I don't like where you stopped" seems valid if you stopped in the middle of the intersection, but that wasn't the case.

But then he asked us where we were going. How is this any of his business? I told him because I wanted to go home and go to sleep without any drama. But seriously, if I'm not doing anything wrong, why is it any of his business where I'm going?

This is probably how a lot of police stops go wrong. Would he have issued a ticket if we'd been teenagers instead of grandparents? Probably. And what might have happened if we'd told him it wasn't any of his business where we were going? (Because I don't think it was, and if he really wanted to know, he could have followed us. We were only two blocks from home.) Surely he didn't stop us to make small talk. And would it have been different if we'd been black instead of white?

I'm tempted to call the police department and complain about him. But that would probably just result in him being on the lookout for my car and waiting for me to stop an inch past that white line again so he could throw the book at me and I don't want any unnecessary drama in my life. I'm in favor of cooperating with the police. Even though I have nothing to hide, I shouldn't have to report to them where I'm going. I just can't figure out how that particular stop was part of "serve and protect".