Kerry was glad to be speeding home. She thought about her father who always complained about how she exceeded the speed limit.
“I hope you get caught. Maybe that will slow you down before you have an accident,” he often said.
Now that she had her own beautiful, red Toyota, she could drive as she wished, she thought.
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Although tired, she was pleased to drive Peter, her cousin, and his friend Scott 120 miles to the farm. Later, she was able to grab a few hours’ sleep because Scott and Peter were outdoors with her father. She could not imagine how her father was entertaining them, coming as they had, straight from Expo ’86 in Vancouver.
What would interest them on a farm without livestock or pets? There were only noisy tractors that smelled of dust, grease and diesel fumes, and grasshoppers that banged on the windshield like hail everywhere you drove. You also had to survey the ground carefully for snakes before getting out of your vehicle.
Peter and Scott had flown from England, where they lived, to Los Angeles, and then to Vancouver for Expo. They had arrived the week before in Regina.
Her mom was having trouble adjusting her menus to the boys’ enormous appetites. And their egos were as big as their stomachs. They soon made it known they had both received scholarships from Manchester University and asked how her mom, after living in London, could “live in a town like this?”
Kerry’s father had gone out to the farm early that morning. Kerry and the boys followed later. Now they were on their way back to Regina, where her mom had invited them out for supper. The next morning, Peter and Scott would take the bus to Toronto and then to Boston to catch their flights back to England.
They were halfway to Regina when they stopped for fuel and to clean the grasshopper porridge off the windshield. Driving on the excellent, two-lane highway at 120 clicks, she thought they should be home, in Regina, in 45 minutes. As it panned out, it took more than three hours.
Suddenly, from the approaching stream of traffic, a car executed a neat U-turn and followed Kerry, its red flashers indicating the police wanted her to pull over.
“Fasten your seatbelts,” she hissed, as she seethed at the thought of her father’s satisfaction if he found out she’d been given a speeding ticket.
Watching the outside mirror, she noted the RCMP officer approaching.
“Hallo,” he said in a friendly manner. “You’re Kerry, aren’t you?”
“Huh?” asked Kerry, for once, completely at a loss for words.
“Do you have two English people with you?” asked the tall officer, bending down to peer into the back seat. Kerry was getting more tense by the second. Now that he had her for speeding, was he looking for drugs as well? Were Peter and Scott in the country illegally?
“Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Well, you have to go back to your dad’s farm for Scott’s passport.”
“What?” asked Kerry.
“Your father phoned your mother, and she called us to intercept you because you must return to the farm,” said the officer.
“If you want, you can come over to the cruiser and hear the message,” he said.
In the cruiser, the officer called his dispatcher.
“I’ve found Kerry. Would you repeat the message to her?”
The dispatcher explained her father noticed a backpack left at the farm. It contained, among other things, Scott’s wallet with his money, traveller’s cheques and, most importantly, his passport. Her father had called her mother. He didn’t have time to bring the backpack to Regina. If Scott was so intelligent, he could look after his own affairs. Her mother eventually called the RCMP to see if they could help. All she could tell them about Kerry’s car was that it was a red Toyota Celica.
Kerry thanked the officer, grateful that he let her off with only a warning for speeding.
“You’ve had enough trouble for one night,” he said, “and still have almost 200 miles to drive.”
About two weeks later, Kerry learned her dad, too, had an opportunity to thank the pleasant officer who stopped her — the officer had awarded her dad with a $60 speeding ticket!
