Every Friday my wife and I take turns taking one of the girls out for ice cream and a time to talk about whatever they want to. The trips may take an hour, they often take more. They're a great way to build on the connections we have with one another, and all it takes is a little ice cream.
The Milltown Ice Cream Depot is just 3 miles from our house, and uphill from Borough Hall. This is where the Police Department is located, and because Milltown could be mistaken for Riverdale in old issues of Archie Comics, it's not uncommon to see a police car sitting in the driveway, lights out, waiting for someone to drive past. Someone like me.
No one enjoys seeing a police car while they're out driving, but it gets even worse when there's one directly behind you. You run through an inventory of every possible offense you may have committed, may be committing, or even may accidentally commit while the police are directly behind you.
Is one of my taillights out? you may ask. Are my turn signals working? Did I fasten the lug nuts on the right rear tire? Is my radio playing too loudly? My radio is off; should I have it on? You think of everything you can do to minimize the chance of doing something wrong and getting pulled over. You try turning the headlights on, even though they're already on. You run the wipers in case there's bird doo-doo on the windshield. You tune in to an easy listening station in case the cop likes Kenny Loggins.
Now there's a light where Washington Avenue runs into Main Street, and that creates problems of its own. Can you turn right on red? If you didn't see a sign, does that mean it's not there, or did you just miss it? Do you make the right turn and risk running a red light, or do you wait the extra 10 seconds for the green light?
Better safe than sorry, I figured, and I waited. Somewhere in the back of my head I remembered an incident where Plainsboro police charged a motorist with failing to turn right on red, but Plainsboro police are an aggressive lot when it comes to collecting ticket revenue, almost as bad as Green Brook, where they will find a way to charge a driver seventeen different ways for the same offense.
The light turned green. I turned right. Patrolman Milltown followed me.
Main Street is lined with signs. I saw signs for Dunkin Donuts, for Hair After, for Wells Fargo and for Hanna's Florist, but nothing about the speed limit. A co-worker of mine once was pulled over for driving 22 mph in a 20 mph zone. (He got out of the ticket because he couldn't stop laughing long enough to give the office his license and registration.)
It's a residential stretch. I stuck to 20.vA half-mile up the road, a sign declared the limit to be 30. I sped up -- and saw the telltale lights in the mirror.
"I'll need to see your license and registration," Patrolman Milltown said when he reached my window. Then: “Sir, you were driving very slowly. Is anything wrong?”
We have an idiot running the country, I thought. I'm haunted by a profound sense of ennui and of loneliness, I can't focus on my writing and thus have dozens of stories that I would like to sell but can't seem to finish. I have serious doubts about the validity of my faith, and I feel like our nation is lost in the grip of an existential crisis.
"No," I lied. "I'm fine."
"You didn't turn at the traffic light, and then you were driving 10 miles under the speed limit," he said, and our eyes met. There, on that empty stretch of Main Street, our souls connected and we understood one another.
You think you have problems? he thought. My girlfriend left me when I took a pay cut to get this job, and she took our Netflix subscription with her, so now I'll never see the rest of “Luke Cage.” My dog won't stop pooping recreationally, and I'm afraid if the guys at work find out about my rash, they'll start calling me “Spiny Norman” again.
He handed me back my license and papers and walked back to his car. A moment later we each drove off into a night that was at once both literal and metaphorical, the road before us brightened by the street lamps of our chance encounter.
Life can be a lonely journey as we travel from birth to death, but if we take a little time and make a little effort, we can lessen the burden for one another along the way.
All it takes is a little ice cream.
Copyright © 2017 by David Learn. Used with permission.