The other night I was pulled over by a policeman. It was a Saturday night. He was trolling I'm sure, for drunks. So was the other police car that was sniffing around this stretch of road. It was easy pickin's, like shooting fish in a barrel.
I produced my license and registration, proof of insurance, passed the follow-my-pen-with-your-eyes-to-see-if-you're-drunk test. My wife sat in the passenger's seat in a cold sweat wondering what I'd done, wondering how much this was going to cost.
"Have you ever been arrested?"
"Any outstanding warrants?" he asked.
"Nope," I answered. "Just speeding tickets." The beam of his flashlight finally turned away. "I'll be right back," he said. Then he left me to do some business in his patrol car.
It was an interminable wait, there on the side of the road with cars whizzing by, drivers and passengers with their necks craned thinking, "Look at that sorry bastard."
"The reason I stopped you," the policeman said when he returned, "is that you have a burned out headlight here on the driver's side."
"Really? It doesn't look burned out."
"Yeah, it's burned out. I'm going to give you a fix-it ticket. You've got 'til March 29th to fix it....."
We drove off to have dinner with our friends. "That light's not burned out," I said to my wife.