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Moving Violation by Bill C

I didn't realize how fast I was driving until I heard the roar of a police siren behind me. As I tried to stop, I saw I was going nearly 90 mph. I'd just gotten my new convertible as a high school graduation gift, and was excited to be taking my first cross-country trip. It felt great to escape the cold and let my long hair blow in the warm Texas breeze as I drove. Only now, it looked like I was in for a slight interruption.

The officer approached and asked for my license and registration. "DAMN" I thought. I'd forgotten to take the registration before I left. I tried to explain the car was new, but he stared at me through his mirrored sun glasses and told me to get out of the car. "When you hippie boys gonna realize you cain't zip through our town like it wuz a race track" he said to me ans he ushered me into the back of his patrol car. "Hippie Boy?" Me? Just because my hair hung half way down my back, hardly makes me a hippie!

Soon, we pulled up to the Sheriff's office, and it looked like something out of Mayberry! Four police officers sat around, playing cards. They seemed quite amused to have a long-haired city boy in their midst. I was told my fine would be $100, and I breathed a sign of relief. Only when they also said "and 5 days in jail" did I start to panic. As hard as I tried to explain that this was an innocent mistake, they ignored me. "Hey, Buford" the young officer said "we gonna let him stay here looking like that?" "HELL NO!" the arresting officer replied and a third officer brought out a jump suit on a hanger, and a black wooden box. "Boy" officer Buford said to me as he took off his sunglasses "everything's gotta come off". There was silence in the room, as I figured they wanted me to change into my jail uniform. I felt uncomfortable doing this in front of my audience, but decided to comply and I removed my "civvies", quickly reaching for the orange jump suit. Again, the young officer interrupted, this time in a mock questioning tone. "Officer Buford, didn't you say EVERYTHING'S gotta come off??"

I was confused, and Officer Buford laughed and nodded his head. "Sit down, Boy" he said to me cooly. "May I get dressed first?" I asked but again was told "Sit down, Boy". I sat on the big wooden chair that was rolled out from behind the desk. "How long you been growing that mop of hair, son" Buford asked as he seemed to inspect it. "Dunno..." I stumbled to answer "a while, I guess. The girls like it, so I just let it go" I explained. "Well, son...ain't no girls here" and all the officers laughed. My heart started beating faster as I sensed where this was heading.

"Might be some weapons in that damn hair" the young officer laughed, and everyone howled. "Well" said Buford "cain't be having THAT!" and with that statement, the young officer brought over the black box and opened it in front of me. I jumped when I saw what it contained. A big electric OSTER clipper that looked like it was used to shear sheep. "Get's hot her in Texas, boy" Buford leered at me as he took the clipers out of the box. "Please" I uttered, and the young officer mimicked me "Please...please...sounds like this boy is begging for a trim" he mocked.

I'll never forget the sickening sound of the clippers when they were plugged in and came to life. I could see my reflection in the mirror...sitting helpless in the chair, my auburn hair, wavy at the center part and curly at the ends, ascading down my shoulders and back. It was my pride and joy, and now, they were threatening to take it from me. Of course, I knew my rights and was certain they were just passing the time by teasing me.

I soon learned a hard lesson.

Officer Buford said "Son...we'll let you keep yer pretty hair if you promise to never speed through our town agin.. OK?. "YES YES YES" I shouted, so grateful that I got this reprieve!

I began to stand, just as Officer Buford placed the clippers at the top of my forehead and plowed them across the center of my head. I was stunned! The officers were whooping and hollering as the first fistfull of my beautiful hair fell on the floor. I tried to speak, but tears started rolling down my face.

Officer Buford continued shearing my ead, and the clipers kept getting clogged, since my hair is (was) so thick and lustrous. The more I cired, the more they all laughed. Now each officer wanted to take a turn denuding me of my hair, and each did with great relish. The pile of hair covered my body until finally...finally...the clippers were turned off and I saw reflection in the mirror. Only sickly stubble remained of my once crowning glory.

I tried to stand but my legs were shaking so badly I had trouble putting on my jumpsuit. I was led to my cell...my home for the next 5 days, and jst as the door was about to close, Officer Buford said "Son...I always keep my word...remember, I told you that you could keep your pretty hair and I meant it. You can take it with you when you leave". And they all laughed and watched me run my hand over my stubbled head.

That was two summers ago, and I have never gotten a Moving Violation since.

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