I am so thankful for our highway patrol, and for the safety
in which they so dutifully work to ensure on our highways. However, as I traveled home from
a neighboring city recently, minding my own business and rockin’ out to Praise
and Worship music, I noticed in my rear-view mirror what appeared to be a
highway patrol unit closing in more rapidly than at normal speed, but without
flashing lights.
My speed was set on 65 . . . okay, 66. I knew my tag was in
date. I had not run any red lights, crossed any lines, nor had I cut anyone off
in traffic. Yet, he followed so closely for several miles and I guessed he might
have been running my tag; for what reason, I did not know. Therefore, I waited to
see what would happen, but was—in the meantime—more nervous than usual, (why is that) making
my journey home much less enjoyable than I usually find it to be.
