There is a saying for when circumstances of an event become so bizarre as to challenge the imagination; to the effect: “You just can’t make this shit up.” I am now testimony to the power of that phrase, and it all happened on my way to Houston recently, to participate in a countermeasure task force to battle human trafficking.

It was in the country squire estate-hood of the venerable Tucumcari, New Mexico. Just a scant few miles west of the border with the great state of Texas, as I clearly recall. As it were, the First Daughter and I were traveling just behind a tractor-trailer rig, that suddenly changed lanes to our left, revealing a state Highway Patrol car there on the shoulder, lights flashing as he issued a citation.

A quick scan of my mirrors as I released my pressure on the gas showed there was no room in the left lane, the big-rig having taken some six car lengths for itself. Well past the incident now, I resumed normal speed. A mirror glance showed the trooper had cut his lights, pulled back into traffic, and then engaged his lights again.

Ah, I shall pull over and let him by, I shall! And I did. But what to my wondering eyes should I see, but a highway patrolman, coming right at me.

It’s anyone’s guess; it’s a crap-shoot at this point why he is pulling me over. I fussed to get my license and papers ready to present. Indeed, our policeman was irate over an umpire who called his kid out at home during the game last night; he had after all been safe. Yes SAFE… Ray Charles could see that he had been safe!!

“Well Sir, you see I…”

“License and registration!!” and I passed those over the tough-selfed him.

He proceeded back to his cruiser to process my fate while Daughter and I made small talk. “I’ll need you to come back to the cruiser with me and sign some paperwork.” returned the officer. Upon arrival at the cruiser the cop proceeded to inform me: