The Drive

Captain Kilpatrick is the nickname I have for the man at the wheel of our car.

No idea why but the name seems to suit him well. Suffice it to say the lighter side of life eludes our driver.

*    *    *    *    *

So, here I was being dropped to work one morning.

We approached a signal. Capt K confidently turned left. As is generally expected when one has to turn left.

Only to drive into the long arms of the law. The city traffic police.

Car made to pull over to the left. Inspector & constable ready to attack their daily bread.

Sitting at the back of the car, I didn’t think we had broken any rule.

I rolled down the window & asked the Inspector wat-appened…one has a right to know the reason for such unworthy receptions you see.

With venom spewing out of every unclogged pore, the Inspector swore, while glaring at Capt K – “This durrrrteee fellow has cut the signull.”

I was rather stunned I must admit. At the same time I felt like laughing at his choice of words & accent describing the offence.

*    *    *    *    *

Cut to the scene of settling the fine.

I sensed the cop would take his own time & harass our driver further. I requested if he could hurry up as I had to get to work for a meeting.

It would also protect Capt K from another volley of abuse. He’d heard enough.

*    *    *    *    *

Jesus said, “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”

*    *    *    *    *

So he broke the signal. Happens. What was so d-u-r-r-r-r-t-e-e-e  about it?

Pray, do tell.

*    *    *    *    *


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