For the police car behind him to be flashing its lights in the universal signal for ‘pull over’…. The siren was blaring too. They meant it, apparently, even if Josh didn’t know why. He pulled over, as ordered it seemed, when a wide enough spot in the road came available.
That wide spot was caused by the addition some twenty years ago of a culinary establishment known as ‘Frankies hot spot’ to the fine dining list. It catered to the occasional truck traffic every two lane interstate carries, as well as a short list of locals with cast iron stomachs and wishes for an early demise. It was not a busy place.
Nosed intothe parking lot, Josh put his aging Honda in park before beginning theinevitable rummage for his registration and insurance cards. They never seemed to be where he thought theyshould be, but since he hadn’t been pulled over in nearly ten years it hadnever been a big issue. As Josh rolledhis window down and turned, he asked “Hang on a second, I know I have them heresome…….” And his voice trailed off as he came nose to muzzle with an officersweapon. His voice seemed to vanish asrapidly as his heart beat jumped, and the best he could manage at that pointwas “Hawaaa?”
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