Yes, folks, I got me another dose of edumacation in Oregon traffic law this morning!
See, as I might have mentioned yesterday, I’m in a bit of a stress mode lately with this project at work. Last night I had hoped to work from home, but magically the mysterious internet connection juju did not function, so I opted for coming into work especially early today.
Michael’s Mommy graciously offered to get Michael up and ready and off to Ms K’s so I wouldn’t have to, and to make sure I was able to get out the door at the crack o’ dawn.
So around six o’clock this morning, I blasted out of the driveway and was on my way to work.
I was nearly there, when those old familiar sparkly blue and red lights stabbed my retinas.
“You gotta be kidding,” I said to no one.
I found a safe place to pull off, and did so.
I was moving a bit slower than usual so it took me a minute to get the interior lights on, get my window rolled down and fetch my insurance/registration/license. Deputy Dawg was at my window in no time.
“Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?”
“What, don’t you know?”
I didn’t really say that. But it sprung to mind just now. I could really be a smart-a** if I gave it just a little effort.
“No, I don’t.”
“You ran through a yellow light back there,” he said.
At that point I was pretty much done listening to him, opting instead to tune into my own internal dialog.
‘A yellow light? Did he just say I ran a yellow light? Since when is that a crime? I thought it was the red ones we were supposed to stop at. Is he desperate or something? Is this a quota thing? Is he going to cite me for failing to wash the bird poo off the back window too? Maybe write me up for not having a clever license plate? Tell me my registration stickers are on crooked?’
I dialed back into Sheriff Earnest’s speech about obeying traffic control devices (I fought the urge to tell him that around these parts, we call them “stop lights”) and about how I had several options, blah de blah blah blah.
Again, I was being handed a ticket for $242.00
They must really like that amount.
After being dismissed, I continued on to work in silence, deciding against turning on the soothing island music I’d been listening to before, which is now tainted with the memory of being nabbed by the coppers.
I mentally took stock of my driving history, applying sober judgment. I’m a good driver. I don’t run red lights, never have. Okay… well, there was that one time… but that was in southern California and nobody saw, and I was trying to keep my family safe from creeps… Anyway, I do my best to keep under the speed limit, I always use my blinkers, I let people in front of me when merging, and I brake for pedestrians.
It’s not like I’m tearing around town in a chopped ’74 Camaro with headers, a blower and a flame paint job, smoking crack and throwing my empty beer cans at old ladies or anything. I drive a freaking minivan, for crying out loud. Why single me out?
But the rain falls upon the righteous and the unrighteous, and when it comes down to it, I’m no better than anyone else. Just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Turns out, in Oregon, it is a crime to run a yellow.
How about that?
Where I learned to drive, in crazy old California, it’s okay to go through a yellow. As long as you’re past the line and in the intersection when the light turns red, you’re good. In Washington, it’s the same way.
But not here. Here, I’ve been driving around like an drug-crazed lunatic for the last ten years, flagrantly running one yellow after another. Until today, when my reign of terror ended.
Good thing they finally nabbed me. Who knows what horrors I might have wrought upon the poor citizens of this fine state with my yellow-light-running mania. In my light blue minivan.
That stinks! Imagine all the crimes that you could have been charged with if you were driving a sports car. I’m sure the minivan caused them to go easy on you!
Good thing he finally put an end to 10 year crime spree! Here we are not allowed to enter an intersection on yellow. This makes no sense, because there is no warning that it’s going to turn yellow. Yellow is the warning before it turns red. I guess in Oregon the cops have nothing better to do with their time.
@seashore – fortunately I haven’t had a midlife crisis yet.
@WeaselMomma – it’s a moronic law. I’d like to see the hard data that proves it saves lives and property.
There’s a lot of Southern California references in your post today, and some of them are not pretty. I think I take offense to that, but then again, your probably right. There are a few creeps around that you don’t want hanging out near you. That’s why I stay away from Disneyland…
@Mike — I grew up near Sacramento, so I can say with confidence that there are creeps all over the state. And yes, the light I ran was in Anaheim. I had no idea the Denny’s we were dining at was a haven for gang members.
Yellow means speed up. You are a good man for keeping your cool. I would have lost it.
The thought of sitting in jail keeps me from reacting emotionally. Yellow now means JAM ON THE BRAKES!
You heathen, you! What must the neighbors think? I’m sure they’re all whispering about what a disgrace this is. Maybe there’s a 12 step program for yellow-light runners?
I know, I’m so ashamed. I’m sure I’ll be getting a letter from the homeowner’s association requesting that we move to another neighborhood.
Here, we have traffic cameras that catch you running red lights (and they’ll get you even if you’re near the other side of the intersection when it turns red, so technically it could be a yellow light). The police don’t even stop you. They just send you a ticket, along with a picture of your car doing the deed.
@Momo – we have a few of those around here too, and fortunately I’ve never run afoul of them and their soulless enforcement. I’m just still surprised that they were all twitchy about my running a yellow, which is all it was.
What else could we expect from Oregon. This is a state that won’t allow you to pump your own gas!
They probably have the yellow light law, to pay for all the minimum age workers pumping gas.
Oregon is a strange state with really bizarre laws. Kinda like Louisiana, except without Cajun food.
ok. let’s slam on our brakes for the yellow and then get rear-ended and cause a 10 car pile up because NOBODY stops for a flippin yellow light. good grief. i’m glad i’m in tennessee-sometimes.