It pays to be a fisherman

In 1995, my 89 year old mother came to spend what would be her last Christmas
with Jo and me. On Christmas morning we took her to the family get-together at
my oldest daughter's home. My oldest grandsons were about 8 and 9. They
received some toy tattoos that you apply to your skin with water. Sooooo, we
all had "tattoos". I had a scar down the right side of my face, and a bullet
hole in my left cheek with blood dripping from it. My mom had a terrible scar
on her left cheek and *two* bullet holes. Joanne was also scarred and bullet
ridden
On Christmas afternoon, with my mom in the front seat and Jo in the back with
mom's walker and the dog, we headed to Springfield on Rt 202.

I asked mom how fast she had ever travelled in a car and she said 70. There was
no traffic on the road, so I thought I'd show off a little with my Audi S4,
telling mom that we were going 80, then 90, and 100, and finally lifting at 125
and lightly applying the brakes. As I went over a rise in the road, my
Valentine erupted and a Pelham cop painted me on his radar. I pulled over, and
he approaced the car. I already had my license and registration ready. He
didn't ask for them immediately, but stared at us for several seconds. He
finally asked how fast I was going. I admitted to 75. He said 76. Who's to
argue? He asked the speed limit and I replied that nowhere in Pelham is the
speed limit more than 50 mph. Apparently this impressed him, for after
checking for warrants, he let me go with a *verbal* warning. Was it Christmas,
or did he feel sorry for a guy with a scarred up wife and mother?