I’m almost at my destination when flashing lights appear in my rearview mirror. I glance at my speedometer. Fifty-five. Fuck, what’s the speed limit? Thirty up here, maybe? Fuck, fuck, fuck. The police car catches up with me just as I pass the overlook and I pull to the side of the road. I kill the engine and remove my helmet. Cool air rushes over me, but sweat pours from my brow. A flashlight beam hits my eyes as the officer stands at a safe distance. “Dismount the vehicle,” he calls. I toss my leg over the bike. “I was going too fast, wasn’t I?” The officer approaches and shines the light in my face and just stares for a few short seconds. “Have you been drinking?” I contemplate lying, but I’m pretty sure I was swerving a little too much. “Yes, I have.” When I say those words, all that runs through my head is how fucking stupid I am to have put myself in this situation.
