NICE COPS — The Weekly Opine

Not seeing these two signs with right turn only arrows (duh!) caused me to spend time with a cop on Tuesday. (Photo credit The Weekly Opine)

Déjà vu all over again

Up until this week it had been, oh, some 15 years since I’d been pulled over by the police. But on Tuesday it happened again. Both times the traffic stops occurred in Chicago’s western suburbs. Years ago, I was pulled over in the Village of Oak Brook in DuPage County. Two days ago, I was stopped in the Village of La Grange in Cook County. Both Oak Brook and La Grange are nearby leafy suburbs with highly educated populations and virtually, it not exclusively, all-White police forces.

Flashing Lights

The causes for why I was pulled over were similar. Tuesday, I made an illegal left turn. Fifteen (or so) years ago the infraction was making an illegal exit – which I’d done several times before. I even admitted to the cop that I’d executed that same exit several times without realizing it was illegal.

By now, most everyone knows how frightful it can be for anyone DWB, i.e., driving while Black. Recent history is filled with true accounts of Black folks and people of color being stopped, often for minor offenses, during which poorly trained cops panic while others allow racism to guide their vile behavior. What should be a routine stop ends up with the driver unnecessarily injured, incarcerated or worse yet, dead.

Years ago, when I was pulled over in Oak Brook, I was driving Nellybelle, my 1976 Ford Torino. I made what I thought was a legal exit and, seemingly out of nowhere, a cop appeared behind me and turned on his emergency lights.

When I was pulled over driving Nellybelle, the cop oohed and aahed, allowing me to slide by with just a warning. (Photo credit The Weekly Opine)

Dutifully, I pulled over as the cop eased up behind me. While waiting for him to arrive at my car door, I retrieved my registration and insurance card from the glovebox and pulled out my driver’s license.

I’ve read that the first sentence a cop speaks can be a precursor of how the “transaction” will go. (Phrases like “What are you up to?” or “Step out of the car” are definitely not what you want to hear.) In Oak Brook that day, the cop’s first words were, “Wow, that’s a beautiful car! What is it?” At that moment I knew I had him. “It’s a ’76 Torino,” I replied.

The officer took my paperwork back to the squad car, looked me up on the computer and, after a few minutes, returned to explain that I’d made an illegal exit. He also told me there was nothing on me in the computer so he didn’t want to ruin my perfect driving record. The cop gave me a warning, we exchanged a few more pleasantries, and I was on my way. I thanked Nellybelle for causing the copper to swoon and give me a break.

During this week’s episode, driving through La Grange, I was in my Ford Taurus with my cousin Ted in the front passenger seat. Again, seemingly out of nowhere, police car emergency lights startled me. Unsure what I’d done, I eased to a stop in the right lane on busy Ogden Avenue. While we waited for the cop to exit his car, I asked Ted to retrieve my registration and insurance card from the glovebox. I reached into my back pocket, took my wallet out and removed my driver’s license. Based on recent history of cops stopping Black folks, I did not want to make any movements, after the cop arrived at my car door, that might spook him into aggressive behavior.

The cop who pulled me over Tuesday handled the interaction with total professionalism. (Photo credit The Weekly Opine)

After about a minute delay the cop came up to my car (because he stopped me on a busy street, he approached on the passenger side). I was ready, with papers in hand, when he asked for my driver’s license and insurance card. I calmly asked if he meant license and registration. He politely said no, just my license and insurance card. I handed them to Ted who gave them to the cop. The cop asked if there was “anything on my license?” I confidently replied “no.” He explained the reason he pulled me over was because I’d made an illegal left turn.

The cop walked back to the squad car and, after what felt like a lengthy delay, returned to my car. He said I would have to pay a $40 citation fee but was not being ticketed “on-the-record.” Therefore, my clean driving record remains clean.

All good

I’ve thought about my favorable outcome in both traffic stops. Maybe things went so smoothly because suburban cops likely aren’t as stressed, and therefore not as jumpy, as big-city cops. Maybe when they saw the birthdate on my driver’s license they relaxed, presuming I’m too old to be a troublemaker. Maybe, they gave me a pass because I showed no nerves of having done something wrong and comfortably spoke the King’s English.

Maybe on Tuesday, because my driving record is spotless (knock on wood), the cop didn’t want to be a spoilsport blemishing my record. Who knows? All I know is both traffic stops ended the way they should have. Uneventful interactions with me and the cop going on our merry way, no worse for the wear.

Lucky me.