DOWN HOME: Topanga, grace and an Oklahoma trooper

For a few minutes, I was certain our dog, Topanga, cost me some money. A lot of money.

She’s not a racer. And I don’t bet on dog fights. But still, I just knew Topanga had taken a bite out of my wallet.

Just after New Year’s Day, we drove up to my parents’ home in southwestern Oklahoma. One of the best things about the season is the time we set aside to be with family. So, I was excited and eager to get to Mother and Daddy’s house.

Turns out, I was a little too eager.

Not long after we crossed the Red River, I saw an Oklahoma state trooper driving our way. An instant later, he turned on his flashing lights and made a U-turn in the highway. Right after that—about 30 seconds too late—I remembered the speed limit is 65 on Oklahoma state highways.

Well, I pulled off the road, and he pulled up behind me. While he radioed my license-plate number, I pulled out my driver’s license, and Joanna handed me our insurance papers. As he walked up the shoulder of the road, I rolled down my window.

He reached the window and started to tell me he clocked me going 75 in a 65 zone. That’s when Topanga barked at him. He hadn’t said anything about football or the Texas Longhorns, so I assume she just didn’t like his Smokey Bear hat.

Jo and I instinctively laughed out loud, but Officer Smith didn’t crack a smile. Jo pulled Topanga closer into her lap as I handed over my license and acknowledged that, yessir, I realized I was driving about 75.

See, I always figure I can get about five miles of grace out of law-enforcement officers. In fact, I heard a documentary where a famous trooper said he actually suspects the people who drive exactly the speed limit. He wonders what they’ve got to hide.

Jo will tell you one of my vices is getting in a hurry, especially when I drive. She loves me, but she hates that about me. So, I actually thought I saw her smirking when Officer Smith returned to his cruiser.

He stayed back there for what seemed like forever. When he walked back to our car, he handed my license to me, and the main word I heard him say was “warning.”

He said, “warning” right about the time I was prepared to apologize for forgetting the 65 MPH law (something I’ve never liked about Oklahoma, but wouldn’t tell one of the state’s finest). I desperately wanted Officer Smith to know I wasn’t really trying to top the speed limit by 10 miles.

Instead, I said, “Thank you” as sincerely as I’ve said anything in a long, long time. I started to shout, “Boomer Sooner!” but didn’t want to press my luck, in case he’s an Oklahoma State fan.

There, on the third day of 2009, I received grace from a stranger who could’ve served justice. I’m keeping that warning ticket to remind me God loves it when I’m merciful, too.