So, the thing is, I drive kinda fast.

I don't necessarily intend to drive fast. I mean, it's not like I jump in my car, stomp on the gas pedal with all my might and holler "Gangway!" out the window as my Honda bursts forth in a flash of dented sheet metal and Japanese ingenuity.

OK, I do that sometimes. But usually? Usually I set out intending to follow California's basic speed law. Which I believe says something to the effect of: "For Pete's sake, would you slow the hell down?"

Somehow, though, I always end up speeding. I know it's illegal and unsafe and wastes gas and all that. But I can't help it, it just happens! And I try not to do it. I really do. Occasionally, as I'm hurtling toward my destination at breakneck speeds, I even think to myself, "I should probably drive slower now." I usually don't. But it's the thought that counts, right?

The police officer that pulled me over Friday didn't think so.

I was on my way to work when I saw a cop parked on the side of the road, in the same spot he's been pretty much every day for the past few weeks. And every day for the past few weeks, as I zoomed past him, I'd think to myself, "Good thing I'm surrounded by all these other cars. He can't possibly single me out!" And then I'd hit the gas.

But Friday, there were no other cars. Just me. Going really fast. So it was no surprise when I saw the flashing lights in my rear-view mirror.

Now, I don't get pulled over very often, and when I do, I usually just get a warning. In fact, the last few tickets I've gotten have all been parking tickets. Which are pretty cheap, so it's no big deal. I kind of consider it an investment: For $40, I don't have to walk as far to get to where I want to go. Which is well worth it, in my opinion, because walking kind of sucks. I'd rather just sit in my car and eat pie.

Anyway. So I pulled over, the cop walked up to my passenger side window, and we went through the whole license/registration rigmarole. Then he began the questioning.

"Do you know what the speed limit is here?" he asked.

"No ..." (That was a lie.)

"It's 45," he said. "Do you know how fast you were going?"

"No ..." (That was the truth.)

"You were going 59," he said. He didn't sound impressed, although he should have been, because when he had pulled me over I was only, like, 100 feet from my apartment. How's that for acceleration?

It was at this point in the traffic stop that the police officer indicated he was about to write me a ticket. Which I was totally OK with. Because — and I think I've done a pretty good job of establishing this — if anyone deserves a speeding ticket, it's me. But then the officer did something pretty cool — he said I had a choice. I could either:

1. be charged with violating the state vehicle code, which would result in a $280 fine and a point on my record; or
2. be charged with violating San Luis Obispo's municipal code, which would result in a $60 fine and no point on my record.

This seemed like a suspiciously easy choice to make. It's like asking if I'd rather have a life-size statue of myself constructed entirely out of ice cream and gumdrops, or a punch in the face. Because who wouldn't want a life-size statue of themselves constructed entirely out of ice cream and gumdrops? I ask my boss for one every year instead of a raise. (He gives me the punch.)

So, obviously, I chose the $60 fine. And then I drove back to work really excited. Because ... what a bargain! I can't even imagine how I'd pay for a $280 ticket. I'd probably have to do something ridiculous, like not buy any new pairs of designer jeans this week. But $60? That's easy! I just won't pay a few parking tickets.

And don't worry, I've definitely learned my lesson: From now on, I'm taking a different route to work. Gangway!