10/23/4 - Crescent City (CA) to Florence to St Helens

40 miles south of Coos Bay, Oregon on Hwy 101. Siren with red & blue lights.
"Crap...fuck!" I pull it over. "Fuck," I tell myself again. An State Patrol officer approaches the cab:
HPatrolman: "Good evening sir: licence, registration, road-log and load papers, please."
Me: "Yessir."
I pretend to be professional and efficient and not angry while I collect his required items.
Me: "My load is pretty light, so I know you didn't pull me over for..."
HP: (interupts) "Ok sir...gimme a few minutes, I'll be right back."
The officer heads back to patrolcar. "Christ," I mutter to myself with a sigh. The World Series on my Satellite-Radio suddenly seems louder without the road-noise. The game is tied 9-9, so I sit and listen while staring in my side-view mirrors at the officer getting into his car:
Satellite radio: "The Red Sox allowed opposing hitters a .255 batting average, while the Cardinals' opponents were at .251...fouled down the right field line, one and one. (5 seconds of stadium noise) So, only four points of batting average is all that separated these two teams, yet the Cardinals gave up a startling 112 fewer runs...a fastball outside ball two."
"Jesus Christ", I mutter to myself again, lookin' at the cop doing his thing inside his patrolcar.
Satellite radio: Mark Bellhorn on deck...tomorrow, game two from Fenway: Cardinals will have Matt Morris on the mound facing Curt Schilling...
The game quickly turns into an audio-blur as I begin spacing-out on oncoming traffic headlights. I'm starin' and thinkin' about my money troubles and all the craziness it seems to dish out on a daily basis. I can not afford a ticket. I instantly snap out of it with the patrol-cardoor shutting and I notice the officer headin' back. I instinctively turn the game down.
HP: "All right, everything looks good."
He starts handing my pile of stuff back at me while beamin' his flashlight in my face like I was some kind of a labrat undergoin' a cruel science experiment.
Me: "So, what's the deal here?"
HP: "Yeah...I'm just checking tonight for criteria under 49 CFR Part 391.41
Me: "Huh?"
HP: (chuckles) "I'm checking tonight for evaluation under 49 CFR Part 391.41, which is for mental, nervous, or functional disorders likely to interfere with a driver's ability to operate a commercial motor vehicle safely.
Me: (I chuckle) "391 dot...what?"
HP: "Well, it's a serious problem we have on this stretch of Highway 101: Emotional or adjustment problems contribute directly to a driver's level of memory, reasoning, attention, and judgment and these problems often can cause drowsiness, dizziness, confusion, weakness, or paralysis that may lead to incoordination, inattention, loss of functional control and susceptibility to crashes while driving..."
- I must have been starin' like an idiot at him, which would give him even more reason to grab my licence and papers again and throw me in jail. -
HP: "...physical fatigue, headache, impaired coordination, recurring physical ailments like chronic "nagging" pains that could be present to such a degree that commercial driving isn't inadvisable."
Me: "Jeez officer, isn't that about every damn driver on the road?"
HP: (chuckling again) "Not necessarily..."
- And off he went again on another speech. I just pretended that I was payin' attention til he was obviously done.
HP: "You seem to be alert and I don't want to keep you any longer."
Me: "Ok officer...thanks I guess."
HP: "You bet! And be careful on the roads tonight, good evening sir."
I felt like sittin' there and listenin' to the game a little longer, but I couldn't wait; I might have ended up in jail. Anyhow, I was lookin' forward to sittin' in the Dockside with a big steak and glass of beer in front of me.
-Tom