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  • Annmarie Throckmorton, M.A.

The Perks Of Being Cute

In my early twenties I had a bad habit of speeding, I walked very fast too, sometimes even trotting up stairs, but that was not illegal. Now I wonder what was going on in my head that I rushed headlong into the future, or was I fleeing the past? Anyway, I loved to explore the world fast as a solo adventurer, with my truck windows rolled down, and the wind roaring on my face. I drove a truck because it seemed big, strong, protective, and I liked sitting up high on the road, where I could see all around around me. When I got out of my truck to be a tourist I chose my tourist spots carefully, always in daylight, never stopping to talk to anyone other than family groups or sometimes other women. That kept me fairly safe in my travels.

Once I remember speeding full bore through a pretty little town somewhere out in the Midwestern countryside. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. This was before I realized that the speed limit is lower in small towns to discourage out-of-towners from colliding with the townsfolk and their property. I whisked though town in a heartbeat, but before I cleared the last house a local officer of the law stopped me. I obediently pulled over but I noticed that he did not put on his siren and he had only flickered his lights once or twice. Perhaps I had a chance to avoid a ticket? As the officer walked up to my truck I politely asked "Is anything wrong officer?" He ignored that hackneyed ploy and said with exasperation, "Do you know how fast you were going?" I swivel-necked looked around to see if I could see a speed limit sign, as if knowing the speed limit would get me off the hook. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the officer watching me with amusement. He had seen this before too. I saw a sign for Interstate 90 and offered up "90 mph?" which was probably about how fast I had been driving. He had seen me spot the I-90 sign and he laughed so hard that he could not write out a ticket on such a cute clown. So he admonished me to go and speed no more, and he let me go without a ticket. I would like to say that I never sped again, but I cannot, although I am pretty sure that I slowed down substantially.

Swivel Eyes

by Annmarie Throckmorton 2021

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