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”Yea, sure, lady… I’ll believe anything...”
As a young Colorado State Patrolman, I had occasion to meet many people; some wonderful and some… well, let’s just say some were not so wonderful. Julie Weathers, the bride of Tom Weathers, Granby’s town marshal, fell into the latter category. She was a nice-enough lady, but she was a scofflaw. Since her husband was the marshal, she felt she needed to be accorded the same privileges that Tom received from time to time. Of course, this didn’t sit too well with some of the other ladies in town and they tended to regard her with a good bit of indignation. Let’s just say she may not have won first place in a popularity contest without stuffing the ballot box (which she most certainly would have done, if the occasion should arise).
Colorado Highway 40 contains a long, straight stretch approximately six miles in duration, immediately before coming into Granby. Given its 55 mph speed limit, it was a good place to sit and track vehicles with my radar. Now, before you go calling it a speed trap, you should know I was never allowed to hide my cruiser and in the three years I lived up there, I wrote exactly three tickets on that stretch of highway, only one of which was for speeding. The other two were for a burned-out headlight (after the third warning) and failure to keep valid registration in the car, a heinous offense that required the perpetrator to appear at the Grand County Clerk’s office and produce said paperwork in lieu of fine or penalty. You have to understand the politics involved… I would rather have you pull all my teeth out with a pair of pliers than write a ticket to a local citizen… Well, most any local citizen, that is. Again, Julie fit into the latter category.
Julie’s family lived in Denver, and she spent a fair amount of time traveling the ninety miles back and forth between the Mile High City and Granby, weather and road conditions permitting. Many times I had occasion to witness her distinctive, powder blue mustang convertible motoring past me, the car always lurching forward as she attempted to slow down. Julie’s accelerator foot was molded from pure lead. The other officers in the county spoke of her sometimes when we got together, alluding to her predisposition towards speed, and her lousy attitude if one of them stopped her. All of us were concerned, because the roads in our area were very curvy and in foul weather, treacherous. In deference to Tom (who was extremely well liked and respected), none of us had ever written her a ticket.
On a crisp October Saturday afternoon, I had occasion to deliver a summons to a rancher whose property was contiguous to Highway 40. I didn’t particularly like that aspect of my job, but it was part of the job description, so I made the best of it. Upon leaving, I was approaching the junction of the highway, so I turned on my radar unit in preparation. As I reached the entrance, a powder blue streak zoomed past and I glanced down at the red LCD numbers on my radar unit… 75!
GOTCHA! A slight smirk came over my face as my finger flicked on my cruiser’s overhead red lights. Before I had an opportunity to even hit full power, I saw her brake lights flash. She had picked me up in her rear view mirror, but it was too late. I had all the evidence I needed. By the time I drove up behind her, she had already pulled over and was getting out of her car. I put my hands out and motioned for her to stay in her car. Of course, she ignored me, continuing to run towards me.
I’ll never forget the look on her face as she began to speak. “Oh, Bob, I’m so glad it’s you. The reason I was speeding is because I’m trying to get to the Husky station…” her eyes dropped down and she wrung her hands a little, “you see… I have diarrhea.”
Well… I’m a duly authorized officer of the court, but I’m certainly not some unfeeling monster who would deny a lady during her hour of need, so I told her to get back into her car and proceed to the Husky station… safely!
By the time she walked out of the ladies’ room, I’d already started writing her ticket for violation of Colorado Revised Statute Number 1216, Subsection 1A, Speed Exceeding Posted Limit, expressly 65 mph in a posted 55 mph zone. When she saw my car parked behind hers, she was able to put two and two together, and walked over to the driver’s side window of my cruiser.
“Officer, I thought you understood why I was speeding.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I certainly do.”
“Bob, it’s me… Julie Weathers… you know…. Tom Weathers’ wife…” There was something about her tone that just didn’t appeal to me at that point.
“Uh, yes, Ma’am… I know who you are, but I need the number off your driver’s license and I also need to see your registration. If you’d like to have a seat in your car, I think that might be a good idea. I’d hate to have anything happen to you while I write your ticket.”
“Look here, you little piss ant, if you think I’m going to sign a ticket from you, you’re sadly mis—“
A shadow appeared from behind her and she was suddenly looking up into the blue eyes of one Tom Weathers, Granby Town Marshal.
“Afternoon, Bob… is there a problem here?”
Tom was removing his sunglasses now and I saw a glint in his eye.
“Oh, no, Marshal, nothing serious. I just wrote Mrs. Weathers a little speeding ticket for 65 in a 55 out on Highway 40, and I think she took a little exception. I think she felt she was going a little faster than that, and she thought it should be more like 75 in a 55… Ain’t that right, Mrs. Weathers, you just didn’t want me to give you a break because you’re the marshal’s wife?”
Julie Weathers looked a mite peaked at that very moment. I’m sure it must have had something to do with her gastric distress. Nevertheless, she reached for the ticket book and said, “Where do I sign?”
As I handed the woman her copy of the summons, Tom shot me a quick grin. I owe you one. He nodded at me and I nodded back. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she and her husband made eye contact. As I picked up my microphone to report to the dispatcher I’d be back in service, I heard tires squealing and smelled rubber burning as a powder blue package of righteous indignation roared past me towards points unknown. In my mind I could see Tom carry his blanket and pillow to the couch that night, that grin still on his face.
God, I loved that job.
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