Apparently, I really do possess some special powers. I’m still just not sure which in particular; I’m guessing maybe invisibility. Or maybe I’m some sort of deity. Here’s why:

Tonight was a beautiful evening here in south central Vermont — cool and clear. In short, a perfect excuse to take the blonde for a spin, breathe the crisp air and clear my head.

There’s a great stretch of road south of town, where U.S. Route 7 goes to four lanes for five or six miles before hitting Wallingford, Vermont. It has several virtues: remote, well-paved, and straight.

In a word, catnip.

So, after passing a Toyota Corolla, I settle in the left lane at 82, 83 miles per hour — you know, reasonable (and still loafy for my little buttercup), but fun.

I signal and, as I drift back to the right lane, I glance into my rear view mirror. And — bam! — out of the very tall roadside weeds about a quarter-mile back lunges a Vermont. State. Trooper.

OMG! as my daughter says, only close your eyes and imagine something a lot less polite. I don’t even bother hitting the brakes. Perhaps my best (and least expensive) option, I think, is to simply and immediately pull over. Now. So as not to annoy the nice officer any further.

I slow down. He gets closer. He passes me. He doesn’t even glance at me. He turns on his lights. And — get this — he pulls over a tan GMC Yukon a few hundred yards ahead of me.

Wha…? Wha…? I don’t get it, I don’t get it, I don’t get it, I mutter to myself. I was moo-vin’, and I’m the baddest boy on this highway.

Then I realize: I’m an invisible deity. That’s gotta be it, right?

There’s the evidence; you judge for yourself. Me? I’m still shaking my head.

AuthorJoseph Fusco