I was trying my best to steer clear of the cops in Denver after I had moved into my own apartment. I wasn't planning on going through the task of switching my registration to another state because I wasn't certain how long I was going to be there. I'd already had one run-in before, but I wasn't driving that time.
I was driving from the Southern part of the Denver Metro area when I decided I wanted to go eat at Round the Corner. I was going to take the Hampden Avenue exit from I-25. For some reason, I got it in my head that it was a two-lane exit. Even though I had driven past it many times, it wasn't. I didn't figure it out until it was too late, so I immediately drove over and illegally changed lanes. There were no cars in the next lane that I could have hit. The next thing I knew, I saw flashing lights behind me. I wasn't even off the ramp yet and I pulled over.
The officer came up. "Why did you cut over like that?" "Oh, I thought it was a two lane exit." He asked for my license, registration and proof of insurance. While my insurance card showed I had active coverage, I knew it had been canceled because I didn't pay the last bill. I just hoped the cop wasn't going to call the company to verify the insurance. (I found out that they NEVER do.) But that was my only worry about the stop. However, he asked where I lived. I knew that my Clovis address was still on the registration. "I live in New Mexico." He pointed out that the registration showed a handwritten address at 456 Logan St. “It says here you live in Denver.” My parents had forwarded the registration and wrote my new address on the outside of the envelope, which contained carbon paper. That address bled right through and showed up on the actual registration. I said, “I’m staying with my uncle for a little while.” “How long have you been here?” “A couple of months.” “Well, you’re supposed to get a Colorado Drivers License within 30 days of moving here.” (I didn’t know that. Otherwise, I would have told him a couple of weeks. DAMN!)
He only wrote me a ticket for not having a valid Drivers License. I did not get a ticket for crossing over nor for having an invalid vehicle registration. I would have to appear in traffic court. There was a number on the ticket that I had to call to set up a court date. I told Bez' father what happened and he decided to help me out, pro bono. I think he wanted to stretch his attorney muscles, which had only seen limited action up to this point.
One of the things he made me do was go get my license. I finally did this toward the end of December 1988, before we left on a trip to Los Angeles to get the rest of Bez' stuff from her maternal grandparents. I didn't even bother to look at the driving booklet. I just took the test and passed on the first try. They took my NM drivers license away. I asked if I could keep the photo on the old license (which was actually one of the best of me ever taken with my long hair), but they said no. I looked like a thug on my Colorado license.
On the day of the appointed appearence, we met at the City and County building and went into the courtroom. There were about 50 other people who were having cases heard at the same time. It looked like I was the only one there with an attorney. The judge came out. It was a woman. She went into this 15-minute monologue about reaching plea agreements. People in the court could get fewer points on their driving record if they pleaded to a lesser charge, even if the charge wasn't remotely related to the original offense. If no plea agreement could be reached, then a date for a trial would be set. Bez' father asked me if I would take a plea bargain. I said I would.
We finally got called up to meet with the prosecutor. I put my license down on the table. Bez' father introduced himself as my attorney. The prosecutor said, "I see you've got a valid Colorado Drivers License. I'll move for a dismissal." I was shocked that he just did that. I was expecting to pay some sort of fine or something. I was getting off scott-free! Later, I wondered if the only reason the prosecutor dismissed was because I had an attorney and he just didn't feel like it was worth fighting about, even though I was going to go ahead and accept a plea deal.
That would not be the last time I would get a ticket nor the last time I would need an attorney. I got in plenty more trouble about a year later, and it did not all end in dismissals. Even though Bez and I had broken up, her father would continue to represent me in court. But I had to pay these times, and pay and pay.
Those will be stories for other days.
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