Friday, October 3, 2008. After picking up my brother from Phoenix Sky Harbor, we met TMBWitW and MEG at My Mother’s Restaurant for lunch. My brother and I then motored north to Flagstaff for LeaAnn’s service.

On the way north, interstate 17 passes through the Verde River Valley (the area is also known as Verde Valley, or Camp Verde – Gawfer, you know the area I’m talking about!). Going north into Verde, the interstate goes down a long and winding grade. The speed limit drops to 65 mph there, and I usually just drift on down with the car in gear, letting the motor take care of the speed. This time, however…

My brother and I had been talking, and the cruise was set between 75 and 77 mph. Dropping over the top of the grade, and easing down, the traffic as very light and the conversation was steady – not involved, but steady, if you see the difference. The car didn’t build up a LOT of speed, but by the time the grade flattened out, the speedometer was reading 82 as I flashed past the trooper sitting in the median.

Yup, got pulled over, as I should have been. We were slowing for the exit, to get sodas for the rest of the trip, and the tropper pulled onto the exit behind us, and gave us a light show.

I had my license and the car registration out, ready for him, when he introduced himself. He also asked for proof of insurance, and I couldn’t find the current card – but I did have to look through all the previous cards to make sure I didn’t have the current one (he even asked to see some of the previous ones).

“Mr. Cartter, the reason I stopped you was because radar clocked you at 82 miles per hour at the bottom of the hill. Now, the 75 mph zone doesn’t start up until another hundred yards or so beyond where I was sitting, but even in the 75 zone 82 is a bit fast. Now, if you will just wait right here while I run your information through the computer to make sure no one else wants to talk to you, I’ll be right back.”

My brother and I sat there and chatted about previous tickets we had gotten (believe it or not, we were kinda wild in our youth) until I saw the trooper headed back to my window with – could it be? thank you, Lord! – a clipboard in his hand.

“Mr. Cartter, I checked with the fifty states and you are not wanted in any of them…”

“Thanks for not checking the other seven…” slipped out before I could stop myself.

“…and two points for the Obama reference” he continued with a slight grin. “I have written a warning for you, to watch your speed and make sure you get a current copy of your insurance card in the vehicle. You never know when you’ll need it.”

My surprise was written all over my face, and I said “Thank you for the warning. I do apologize, I was talking to my brother, down from Salt Lake, and we were headed to our sister’s funeral.” I signed the warning, he gave me a copy, and we continued to the convenience store to get a couple of cokes.

When we got back in the car, I looked at the warning. The nice trooper had written it for 80 in a 75. What a wonderful example of God’s Grace, I thought. I deserved a ticket, I was waiting for the ticket, and instead I received a warning.

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