Frank to say—you were speeding. Going 50 in a 35 and zoomed right by a police car. You groaned, seeing the lights of the cop car behind you. You pulled over and the man stepped out of the vehicle. He wasn’t at all what you were expecting—how did he have gray hair in his 20s??? He knocked on the window and you rolled it down.

“Do you know how fast you were going back there?” He asked, his voice having a tinge of amusement. “I’m going to need to see your license and registration please.”