RIGHTS ARE RELATIVE

All this talk lately about arrests and rights got me to recollecting. There was a time right after college I was an LIFE insurance salesman. That was back when I could drive and since it was a commission-only job traveling was imperative.

One day I was driving on the city streets of CLARKSBURG, WV and going around a narrow turn I drove over the broken down curb. Mind you while of course you are NOT legally supposed to go off the road anywhere, I had witnessed lots of people do it there over the years. Throw in the fact that I was driving a 1968 DODGE DART that had been given to me by my uncle for my 16th birthday and had originally been my grandfather's car, the 100,000+ miles it had on it made the steering a little lacking in the responsiveness category.

Well a few minutes and two or three miles later I saw flashing blue lights in my rear view mirror. This time I pulled over at a highway intersection, Plenty of room to accommodate jalopy pulling to the right. The officer asked me to get out of my car to walk a straight line after not believing my slurred explanations. Well anyone who knows me can only laugh at the thought of me walking a straight line. No I was put in the back of a squad car, my own car hooked up to a tow truck, and I was taken to the police station.

I guess I went voluntarily. There were no CUFFS but there were no other OPTIONS either. The "arresting officer" if you will slammed his fist on the steering wheel and exclaimed, "Man you gotta be on something!". Yeah I guess this means I'd been profiled. In the officer's defense I would later find out that due to a nystagmus in my eyes, I was experiencing a constant movement in them.

Well the next stop was at the station where I was given the opportunity to blow into a little tube. Not surprisingly, the breathalyzer read triple zeroes. You would think I'd be done here but that wasn't the case. No the officer then insisted that despite being 23 years old I call my father. At that age it was a real blow to my ego and aspirations of being independent.

Even when my Dad showed up the police officer was refusing to return my driver's license to me, stating "He can't even walk a straight line". Behind the counter was another officer, a dispatcher, so my father asked if that man could walk a straight line. Immediately my license was returned.

On the ride home, my strong sense of injustice had been provoked and I started talking about "false arrest" and filing charges. Remind you this was in 1985 and in WV so there were not many organizations or agencies to run to my defense and take up my fight. So I listened to a very wise and practical man, my father and went out and bought a new car, a 1985 1/2 Ford Escort. No more problems.