“Thought This Was Worth Posting Again-Have You Ever Done This?”
Wednesday, March 26th, 2008Late for Dinner
By: Author Unknown
Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing
down: 73 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How
could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled
over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the
potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak
his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of his
car, the big pad in hand.
Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk farther into his trench
coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A cop catching
a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little
eager to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he
was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every
Sunday, a man he’d never seen in uniform. “Hi, Bob. Fancy
meeting you like this.”
“Hello, Jack.” No smile.
“Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and
kids.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
“I’ve seen some long days at the office lately. I’m afraid I
bent the rules a bit -just this once.” Jack toed at a pebble
on the pavement. “Diane said something about roast beef and
potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean. I also know that you have a
reputation in our precinct.”
Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to
change tactics.
“What’d you clock me at?”
“Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?”
“Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw
you. I was barely nudging 65.” The lie seemed to come easier
with every ticket.
“Please, Jack, in the car.”
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door.
Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no
rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob
scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn’t he asked for a
driver’s license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before
Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked
his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand.
Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough
room for Bob to pass him the slip.
“Thanks.” Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his
voice.
Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched
his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper.
How much was this one going to cost? Wait a minute. What was
this? Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket. Jack began
to read:
“Dear Jack,
Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed
by a car. You guessed it — a speeding driver. A fine and
three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his
daughters. All three of them. I only had one, and I’m going
to have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug her
again. A thousand times I’ve tried to forgive that man. A
thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to
do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful, Jack,
my son is all I have left.
- Bob”
Jack turned around in time to see Bob’s car pull away and
head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A
full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly
home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife
and kids when he arrived.
Life is precious. Handle with care.










