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?

Number Five

Number Five, or V, is the tallest of the brothers. He is also an Ironman triathlete and a firefighter. He's a wuss. I can totally take him. After all, he is my younger brother. In fact, he's such a wuss, there is nothing he can do about me swiping this recent photo from his family's blog. HA!

Fascinating historical fact: V started the tradition of using my parents' front lawn as additional driveway space.

While he was in High School, after I was home from my mission, I came home one night to find him being dropped off by one of his punk, loser friends. (Well, that's kind of what I thought of them at the time, although time and age have helped me to realize that they were actually good kids - just boys.) His friend had used the front lawn as front-door drop-off service and then kind of peeled out on the lawn.

I might have over-reacted at this point. I slammed the car into drive and proceeded to chase his friend around the foothills of Provo. The chase ensued for probably 75-80 minutes at speeds of up to 100 mph. (Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I don't want to admit the actual time or speeds, or very rough dirt roads we passed over.) When I decided to stop, I came home and asked Number 5 about it.

I remember he kind of laughed it off. I should have, too. There wasn't any damage done to the lawn, really.

Generally speaking, that's him. He kind of lets things slide off and not worry about them if they aren't important. So, from being a ski bum in Chile, to competing in triathlons regularly, to being a firefighter in Park City, he's been rather successful. And, as an older brother I'm a little bit proud of him. But don't tell him that. I'm too proud to let him know.

Happy Birthday, Andy. I love you, Mongo.

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.