“No Contest” Your Honor

I mentioned, in a previous blog, that Maxwell, my car, had been totaled. I have since purchased a used car that works perfectly for my new life here in Wilmington. She is a brilliant cherry color, and her name is Red. Anyway, there I was, holding JoJo, standing on the grass next to Maxwell, who was expelling a mixture of steam from the rear, scorched, flat tire and powder from the blown side airbags that floated into the air, making it perfectly apparent to the lookie-loos slowly driving by that there had been an accident.

I remember everything pretty clearly. Especially the part where the officer on scene came up to explain to me that he deemed the accident my fault and handed me a ticket and summons to court. It seems to me that in California, at least, the insurance company sees fault in percentages. That is, if the other driver had seen two lanes completely stopped, perhaps that would mean slowing down just a bit, not going full speed through, might have been a good idea. You know, just in case some idiot was not trying to cross your path. In North Carolina, apparently, there is only black and white, right and wrong, legal and illegal. I was wrong and I accepted that and still do.

I moved to a state where I have no family and no established friends (who can drive). The other driver, who seemed to be okay, thank the Lord, called the spouse who came quickly. I called my road service and waited. While I waited I watched the other car being towed. I watched the fire department road crew clean up the road, making the shattered glass disappear. I watched the other driver give instructions to the tow car driver, get in the other car, and disappear down the road. I watched the officer finish his paperwork and check the road conditions, also disappearing down the road, ready for the next disaster. There I was, holding a confused but intact JoJo and standing next to my beautiful Maxwell, now lifeless. Being alone can make up a stew pot full of many feelings. There was a moment of loneliness. How could there not be? I knew God was right there with me but there was no one with skin next to me, and the world just kept flowing by. But I had a tow truck coming. I had a decent insurance company already on the job, setting up a rental car.

And I had my cell phone! I remembered back to the early 1990’s. Cell phones were brand new. Rising in popularity and multiplying in households as fast and dense as a Pleiades Meteor Shower. It took some work but I finally convinced the love of my life that I needed one. “What if I’m stuck on a dark, deserted road and need to call you?” Apparently, I was a good litigator and he relented. I have never looked back. Yes, Gen Zers, we were using technology before you were born. So, cell phone in one hand and JoJo in the other, and a guardian angel who had obviously been watching over me, I was not alone. I was not helpless. In good time, the tow truck arrived, gave me the tow yard info and hooked up Maxwell. I watched him as he was pulled onto the road and was towed out of my life. I think I mourned him more than I did a couple of my boyfriends back in the day.

Then, I called Uber. It took about ten minutes for my ride to show up. I must have looked like a sad old lady, holding her precious pooch, because a young man came out of the fast food place I was standing by while waiting for my ride, and asked me if I was okay. Would I like to come in and rest? Could he bring a chair out for me to sit on? I politely thanked him and declined. He went back to work but immediately came out again, carrying an unopened bottle of water. I accepted the gift and thanked him three times. Okay, Gen Zers, I am impressed.

Now, to present day. My ticket explained I could pay the hefty fine or wait and go to traffic court. If I paid the fine I would be admitting I was completely in the wrong. I assumed, right or wrong, that if I showed up on the day of court, I could explain and maybe have my fine lowered. I decided to wait for the court date. Really, I did not think I would get a lower fine. I just decided that I had never been to traffic court. That would be a new experience in my life, after 71 years of no-ticket-perfection. So, it was a “Go!” This last Friday was D-Day, well, really, C-Day (court day). Thursday, I began to feel the nerves tingle. I slept for three hours that night and then spent the rest of the night making up scenarios. I would stand before the judge. He, or she, would ask me if I plead Guilty or Not Guilty. I would answer, “I must plead No Contest your Honor.” That would make the judge a little angry because, in North Carolina, there is only black and white – guilty or not guilty. I kept telling myself that it was okay. The worst that could happen is that I had to pay the fine. I also reminded myself that, please God, this would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But you know how nerves can often seem to reign supreme.

So, I rose early. I got myself dressed in a nice black outfit, choosing an even nicer gray and white suit jacket that made me look serious and, I thought, honest. I figure it is always good to look honest when you go to court, right? I hopped into Red and we started down the road, whispering a final prayer for the day’s beginning. Arriving at the courthouse at 7:30 AM I parked fairly close. The courthouse opens at 8. The parking meter starts demanding at 9. I said another prayer about getting done in record time. I didn’t need a parking ticket while dealing with a traffic ticket at court. There was already a line in front of the courthouse doors, so I got out and stood in line. The temperature was in the 40’s, but my jacket kept me warm, and there was no wind. So far, so good. The doors opened promptly at 8. We filed in and went through security. There were at least eight officers standing around. You never know when a crazy old lady might come bouncing in.

We, traffic ticket holders, were directed to the third floor. It felt like sheep being directed to the barn where our wool would be shorn, leaving us with less than we came in with, but very much alive. The “audience” section was lined with church pews, two sections of long wood benches where we were directed to sit in order of entrance. Up on the stage there was no judge waiting to decide our fates. Instead, there were two long folding tables. Four people sat at each table. The Master of Ceremony (my title for her) stood between us and them, directing us, one at a time, alternately from each of the two front pews to head up to the one of eight holding a hand up, ready to help. As each person went up, those sitting and waiting would literally scoot towards the “Go” seat. The person in the next pew would scoot to the end ready to move forward. As I sat there, I began to evaluate each of the people working. I centered my attention on one whose presence seemed to be stronger than the others. I assumed she was a senior in the group, not older, just more in charge. When my turn came, and fairly quickly, guess who I got?

She took my ticket and looked me up. I asked if she needed my ID. She laughed and said, “We don’t get many imposters trying to pay other people’s tickets.” She then explained to me that if I got a letter from my insurance company stating the insurance portion had been closed, my ticket would be voided. BAM! I left for home, well before 9 AM, and then I took a nap. I am proud of myself for venturing into the unknown. And in the end, it paid off.

I have until March to get that letter, and return with it, for my next court date. And, I am not even going to worry that that date happens to be Friday, the 13th.

Be Careful Out There!