Deep Thoughts

Or not. Maybe just thoughts.

As I was driving toward St. George on Saturday night after a satisfying trip to Lavell Edwards Stadium, I found myself thinking again. Nick on my right and Josh behind me.

It was a good trip. I found myself wondering if my boys will remember this trip like I remember certain trips with my dad and brothers. And will they remember it fondly?

(I think I did a pretty good job of keeping Gollum in check.)



 We just were 3 boys having fun going to a football game; eating nachos and hot dogs and cougar tails. I just wanted it to be fun. I want them to have a happy memory.

This is Josh adding to his signature collection on his football. Ask him about...but only if you're prepared to spend the time listening. He loves to talk about it.





I tried to point out to them the beauty of the landscape we were speeding past in the dark. The beauty that you could only see because of the soft, white blanket covering the ground between Fillmore and Beaver. That blanket was reflect in a strong light radiating from the moon.

Part of me wished I could just pull over and enjoy looking at it for a little while. However, I didn't have any snacks or beverages in the car that would allow for a prolonged trip. But I imagined what it would be like in my mind.

My dad taught me to appreciate things like that. Hopefully, in those moment between the glowing screens in front of their faces, they truly caught a glimpse of it.

See, I had a birthday a little more than a week ago and I sort of had some sudden realizations that I am starting to not be that young any more. (Starting) My body tries to remind me of that now and then when my mind isn't so convinced.

I am having conversations about things with my kids and telling them it was 30 years ago. Really? Thirty years? It doesn't seem like it was that long ago, but 30 is kind of a big number looking back.

The boys did get to enjoy playing in the median of the freeway for a little more than an hour as we waited for this mess to get cleaned up the next morning just north of Valley of Fire. So, that's a memory, too.

The smoke is rising from the second of two accidents ahead of us.

If you look at this photo closely, life flight is just taking off.

This was the cause of the second accident.

Don't Drive Angry

Although, in my case, it may be better to say, "Just don't drive."

Apparently, I am a much higher-risk driver than I thought I was. I don't drive recklessly. I don't speed (as much as others do). I am fairly cautious and pay attention to my surroundings. I don't follow too closely (if the driver in front of me didn't just cut me off). And I don't text while driving (fast).

Yet, My Precious:


Of course, you should see her car:

I am sure you can see the damage.

Look closely.

No? You are SO biased against victims of vehicular violence.

Bottom line: It doesn't matter. Highway Patrol was called to investigate. Thankfully, two units - 4 patrolmen - responded. And I'm not sure, but I think at least two of them were on work-release from Centennial High School. It was clearly a high-risk situation that needed back-up. Perhaps it was my BYU tie. They thought I was going to be too independent in my thinking.

(Oh come on, you knew I had to work it in sometime, right? I love the last paragraph of the release, by the way.)

I will be on the road between 5 and 5:30 this afternoon. I recommend you stay inside at that time. If that won't work for you, will you be my designated driver to get me home safely?

My Matlock Moment

As it turns out, according to the Iron County Justice Court, I am guilty. Of course, that is under the strict interpretation of the rules of the court. I maintain my innocence to the alleged wrongdoing.

Today was my court appearance in Cedar City. As Highway Patrolmen in Southern Utah have nothing better to do, Trooper Jeff Bigler was present to testify against me. His testimony was along the following lines: "I am going to present to the court conflicting information in direct opposition to the defendant's story about what side of the freeway I was on. I assert (as I also told him when I pulled him over) that I know he was speeding because he was passing other vehicles. Then I will not tell the complete story about what transpired once I pulled the defendant over."

My favorite cross-examination question of him was, "You stated that you decided to pace me because you saw me passing other vehicles and that I must be traveling at a high rate of speed, is that correct? (yes) Is it possible to pass other vehicles on the freeway and not be going between 85 and 90 miles per hour?"

Perhaps it was that big-city attitude that the judge did not like. She said, "I am not going to tolerate your courtroom circus-like antics, Mr. Matlock. Here in Cedar City, we have our own way of doing things."

Can you say appeal?

The Trials of Life

I am a defendant in a trial. Lest anyone get the wrong idea, I am not guilty. (Just like the accident was not my fault.)

But, I am not guilty of the crime for which I have been cited: Driving 85 in a 75 mph zone. I was not going any faster than 82. So, now in an attempt to salvage my good name and reputation, I am driving back up to Cedar City (at no faster than 82 mph) in March to plead my case.

Is there a principle at stake? Yes. Had he written the citation for 82, I would just send the court my money. Both Nicki and I told the UHP officer that our cruise control was set at 82 and it was not possible on this flat to slightly uphill-inclined stretch of highway that we were going 85-90 mph. Yet, he claims he paced us going between those speeds, even faster. (He did not clock us on radar.)

I submit to you that, having been on the north-bound side of the freeway, then turning around to follow after a minivan (which may, or may not have been ours) that he visually determined was speeding, he most definitely had to reach speeds in excess of 90 mph to catch up to us.

How did he visually determine we were speeding?: "Well, I saw you pass several vehicles."

I am definitely guilty of passing other vehicles. All vehicles traveling at speeds slower than 82 mph - particularly large trucks and RVs.

He said there must be something wrong with our speedometer. So, Nicki asked the kind highway patrolman to follow us for a short spell to see if our speedometer might be broken. He offered to drive in front of us and when he reached 75 mph, he would flash his yellows.

We accepted. As he flashed his yellows, Nicki and I looked at our speedometer.

75 mph.

Fully expecting him to be as pleased with the results as we were, we pulled over next to his Patrol Vehicle and shared the joyous tidings with the congenial officer, who said, "Whatever." Okay, that's not exactly what he said, but it was the basic nature of his response.

Not Guilty.