During this past Thanksgiving season, like each of you, there were many things for which we have felt great feelings of gratitude. If one only begins to consider the myriad of blessings we enjoy, it is easy to see how the list grows exponentially in short order.
In my 35+ years of driving, I’m grateful for the fact that I haven't been issued a ticket for a traffic violation. I was pulled over at the tender age of 16 on Highway 160 while driving Grandpa and Grandma Woodward's 1973 Cutlass Supreme with a 455 4-barrel carburetor engine and given a stern warning by Office Hamilton of the Sacramento County Sheriffs Department for my excessive speed (the exact speed, to this day, is deemed classified information). In 1980, I was pulled over for going 65 mph on Highway 99 when the speed limit was 55 mph on that long stretch of road. The California Highway Patrolman upon looking into the 1978 Ford Pinto that Tammy and I were driving, noticed the back seat filled with wedding presents. Upon hearing that we were recently married and were enroute to attend more wedding festivities in Sacramento, the patrolman took pity upon me and issued a warning as a token of goodwill in celebration of our marriage. And on three separate occasions, on Highway 6 near Green River, Utah, on Interstate 25 in Castlerock, Colorado, and just a mile south of our home on Voyager Parkway, respectively, I was pulled over and given warnings for faulty front or rear lighting on the vehicle. But none of these caused an element of embarrassment quite like I experienced this past month.
While driving to work, just 2.5 miles south of our home, I noticed some construction ahead in the lane in which I was driving. A string of cars were to my right and behind me, making it difficult for me to move out of my lane which was blocked off a short distance in front of me. Now perhaps due to some impatience on my part, I elected to move quickly ahead of the car to my right where there was room to move out of my lane. Unbeknownst to me, at that very moment of acceleration, there was a Colorado Springs Police Officer surveying the situation. I no sooner got well ahead of the car to my right, and got out of my lane which was coming to an abrupt end, when I heard a siren behind me. I checked my rearview mirror to see lights flashing from a motorcycle. I pulled well off the road to the right and came to a stop. I pulled my license from my wallet, and took the registration and proof of insurance out of the console. I rolled down my window and placed my hands on the steering wheel in plain sight as I was taught by Brother Al Parker (former California Highway Patrol Officer) when I was a teenager. (Adam might have a more current procedure that he can share with the group.) The officer approached the window and took a good look at me. He had on a helmet and sunglasses. My first words to him were, “Officer, you’re probably going to cite me for going a little fast back there.” His initial response to me was, “Not today, you’re my stake president.” At that very moment, I realized that the officer behind the sunglasses was Brother Betts of the Monument Ward bishopric. His further response was, “President, just watch that speed now. Boy am I going to have a good story for the bishop.” In a flash he was back on his motorcycle, and off on his way. I have since had the chance to meet up with Brother Betts at a church function and tell him that it is good to see him in more favorable circumstances.
I recognize that committing this account to print will quite possibly bring this long streak of traffic warnings to an end. But for as long as it lasts, I will continue to be grateful.
We are all doing well and are looking forward to Christmas.
Much love,
The Woodwards