stopped me the other day for something he called a ‘rolling stop’ at the stop sign? I told him there was no such thing, and I had no intention whatsoever of letting him write me a ticket.”
While Bitty got out the orange juice and a bottle of champagne, I took glasses down from one of the cabinets.
“Did he write you a ticket?” I asked as I held out the glasses for her to pour in the juice and sweeten it with champagne.
“No, but he was fixing to until I told him that I’d tell his grandmother how rude he’d been to me.”
“There is such a thing as a rolling stop, you know,” I said when my glass was full. “It’s a traffic violation.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Bitty recorked the champagne bottle and put it back in the cooler. “I never heard of it. If they go around making up new laws, they should put out some kind of announcement about it.”
I nodded. “It’s on the driver’s license test. A driver must come to a complete stop at a stop sign, regardless if it’s a three-way, four-way, or even one-way stop.”
Bitty gave me a sour look. “Well, aren’t you little Miss Traffic Cop today. How do you know this, may I ask?”
“Because when I came back home I had to change my driver’s license from one state to another, and they required me to take the test since it was time for me to renew anyway. I had to study the Mississippi driver’s manual. Would you really have told his grandmother?”
“Probably not. But he didn’t know that.”
I pictured Officer Rodney Farrell’s horror at Bitty’s threat. He reminds me of a character or two from the old Andy Griffith Show reruns, since he acts like Barney Fife and looks like Opie Taylor. Bitty and I have vast experience with old TV shows and old movies. We frequently finish one another’s sentences when quoting lines from oft-seen television reruns.
I said, “Well, he probably just wanted to ‘nip it, nip it’—”
“‘Nip it in the bud!’” we both finished together and laughed at our own silliness in quoting a line used by the fictional Barney Fife.
Once we were seated in Bitty’s small parlor and had our feet up on ottomans, she asked, “What new plans do Aunt Anna and Uncle Eddie have in mind lately?”
Aunt Anna and Uncle Eddie are my parents. My father’s brother was Bitty’s father, now deceased. My parents have come down with a bug in their later years—the travel bug. While I sometimes suspect them of luring me home just so I can take care of their neurotic dog and feral cats while they go climb Pike’s Peak and gamble at Cripple Creek, it’s more like I’m a temporary custodian. They’re usually only gone a week at a time, and I’m usually so glad to see them return I forget the horror I’ve endured while they were absent. It’s something similar to childbirth; once the baby gets here, labor pains fade from memory. That just about describes my feelings about caring for their creatures.
“It’s so near the holidays,” I replied to Bitty’s question, “that they haven’t made any new plans that I know of. I should be safe until after the first of the year. Then I can start worrying about them taking off for the pyramids or Machu Picchu.”
“Bless you.”
I looked at her. “What?”
“Didn’t you just sneeze?”
I thought a moment. Then I shook my head. “No. I was just telling you that my parents have sent off for brochures again, this time adding Machu Picchu to the list.”
Bitty stared at me. “They sent off for brochures to where? ”
“Machu Picchu. It’s an ancient abandoned village atop a mountain in Peru.”
“Oh. Good gawd. I’d hate to think of them traipsing around mountains and all. They’re in their seventies. Why don’t they go somewhere flat?”
“I’m hoping they don’t find out they’ll need passports until it’s too late. That may slow them down a little bit.”
“Speaking of ancient history,” Bitty began, “I think that professor just had it out for
While Bitty got out the orange juice and a bottle of champagne, I took glasses down from one of the cabinets.
“Did he write you a ticket?” I asked as I held out the glasses for her to pour in the juice and sweeten it with champagne.
“No, but he was fixing to until I told him that I’d tell his grandmother how rude he’d been to me.”
“There is such a thing as a rolling stop, you know,” I said when my glass was full. “It’s a traffic violation.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Bitty recorked the champagne bottle and put it back in the cooler. “I never heard of it. If they go around making up new laws, they should put out some kind of announcement about it.”
I nodded. “It’s on the driver’s license test. A driver must come to a complete stop at a stop sign, regardless if it’s a three-way, four-way, or even one-way stop.”
Bitty gave me a sour look. “Well, aren’t you little Miss Traffic Cop today. How do you know this, may I ask?”
“Because when I came back home I had to change my driver’s license from one state to another, and they required me to take the test since it was time for me to renew anyway. I had to study the Mississippi driver’s manual. Would you really have told his grandmother?”
“Probably not. But he didn’t know that.”
I pictured Officer Rodney Farrell’s horror at Bitty’s threat. He reminds me of a character or two from the old Andy Griffith Show reruns, since he acts like Barney Fife and looks like Opie Taylor. Bitty and I have vast experience with old TV shows and old movies. We frequently finish one another’s sentences when quoting lines from oft-seen television reruns.
I said, “Well, he probably just wanted to ‘nip it, nip it’—”
“‘Nip it in the bud!’” we both finished together and laughed at our own silliness in quoting a line used by the fictional Barney Fife.
Once we were seated in Bitty’s small parlor and had our feet up on ottomans, she asked, “What new plans do Aunt Anna and Uncle Eddie have in mind lately?”
Aunt Anna and Uncle Eddie are my parents. My father’s brother was Bitty’s father, now deceased. My parents have come down with a bug in their later years—the travel bug. While I sometimes suspect them of luring me home just so I can take care of their neurotic dog and feral cats while they go climb Pike’s Peak and gamble at Cripple Creek, it’s more like I’m a temporary custodian. They’re usually only gone a week at a time, and I’m usually so glad to see them return I forget the horror I’ve endured while they were absent. It’s something similar to childbirth; once the baby gets here, labor pains fade from memory. That just about describes my feelings about caring for their creatures.
“It’s so near the holidays,” I replied to Bitty’s question, “that they haven’t made any new plans that I know of. I should be safe until after the first of the year. Then I can start worrying about them taking off for the pyramids or Machu Picchu.”
“Bless you.”
I looked at her. “What?”
“Didn’t you just sneeze?”
I thought a moment. Then I shook my head. “No. I was just telling you that my parents have sent off for brochures again, this time adding Machu Picchu to the list.”
Bitty stared at me. “They sent off for brochures to where? ”
“Machu Picchu. It’s an ancient abandoned village atop a mountain in Peru.”
“Oh. Good gawd. I’d hate to think of them traipsing around mountains and all. They’re in their seventies. Why don’t they go somewhere flat?”
“I’m hoping they don’t find out they’ll need passports until it’s too late. That may slow them down a little bit.”
“Speaking of ancient history,” Bitty began, “I think that professor just had it out for
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