Thursday, August 4, 2011
Secondhand Rants will return on Tuesday, August 09.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The curse of being more sociable is, efficiently put, inefficiency, but it’s a cost I’ve gladly shouldered. Here’s why. In my prior state, the only narrative that received any appreciable amount of attention was my own, and when you’re front and center in your own mind, decision-making is streamlined, to say the least, because–guess what?–your story is most important.
But when other people’s narratives take on an authentic weight, the situation becomes a lot more complicated. Suddenly their tales, their agendas, collide with yours. They intersect. Conflict. Amplify. Echo. And affairs that once allowed you to cruise conveniently under the radar, fast and low, now call for a substantial investment of emotional capital. It’s worth it, though, simply on the strength of how rich these interactions can be. I’m usually happier when I have a couple things marinating in the brainpan, and all this extra empathy has yielded a generous harvest.
Even those whom I hate are getting the benefit of the doubt. Yesterday, for instance, right at the crack of fuckin’ dawn, the revving started again after a long hiatus. There I was, in the hazy country between dream and sleep, wondering whether Dave Mirra had just come back from a long vacation. Or perhaps his motorcycle had been in the shop? And if so, were the repairs expensive? Then, in a delicious turn of events, the usual accelerated whine was cut short. Something was wrong with the engine. The standard launch sequence doubled, maybe even tripled in length, and ultimately the vehicle had to be parked. Same sequence of events this morning, too, only with a more wretched whine from the machinery. Did someone put bleach in his tank? At long last, I mean? Fine, so maybe I’m not completely empathetic yet, but I’m getting there. Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for his goddamned bike.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
“Improper equipment” is a ruling that’s positively ridiculous, when you frame it against the context of speeding, but with no points on your license or insurance, it’s the kind of absurdity you want. After all, which apparatus in your vehicle could possibly be improper? Is your speedometer not calibrated correctly? Is your lead foot a touch too heavy, perhaps? When I explained to Pound Cake how this judgment was essentially purchased, in the postmortem of my first ticket, she was indignantly amazed and understandably so.
But a part of me reveled, too, in the realization that when the long arm of justice reaches for you, you need only furnish a couple twenties to deflect it. It was a dozen twenties, more precisely, with court costs and lawyer fees all considered. For me, though, it was a wash because paying the ticket on the spot–essentially admitting guilt and thereby incurring points on the license–would’ve set me back $250 anyway, so sunk cost, right? You may argue it wasn’t a sunk cost, since speeding was entirely avoidable, but I love it. Love the feel, the freedom of a swift road beneath, and in my mind, the amortized cost worked out to roughly $80 per year to travel at my preferred velocities, a price I’d gladly pay.
You’ve got to do your research, of course, and comparison shop for your defense. The shitty lawyers will charge you just as much, but promise only a reduction in speed or a “prayer for judgment.” Choice is on your side, however, because your mailbox will be packed with legal advertisements the day after your ticket. I contacted seven different lawyers for my most recent ticket, a 77 in a 65, in case you were curious. Three calls went straight to voicemail during peak hours. (Are they staffed properly?) One call resulted in a request for a callback, since the lead lawyer was out and about. (Lunch time.) Another call yielded a nine-mile reduction in speed for a decidedly non-reduced price. (So why am I paying you again?) But lo! Two of these consultations led to improper equipments. I heard a great trope in a sermon once: when you’re guilty, you yearn for mercy, but when you’re wronged, you want justice. When you’re guilty, too, apparently you also yearn for discounts. And wouldn’t you know it, AAA will reimburse part of the lawyer’s fees.
Suddenly, all the pieces fit together, between the cops, lawyers, and AAA. This was a game, a dance. I went to a precinct last weekend because along with my speeding ticket came a written warning for my license plate frame. The warning ticket posited some dire 15-day window to remove the offending frame, after which an officer would have to sign the ticket before it could be mailed to the state for confirmation. After a few minutes, an officer ambled out. I explained my situation, asked where I should mail this ticket, and he chuckled and shook his head in response. “To be honest,” he said as he signed the ticket, “you don’t even need to mail this thing in.” He didn’t even bother to check my car. “I don’t even know why they make you think that.” That’s a 10-4 right there, good buddy.