. . . are dusty.
Yesterday I got a rare privelige of participating in the judicial process that we take so much for granted. Last month my lovely wife and I were witnesses to a bad car accident, in which we saw a red sports car cross Lancaster without enough clearance, and a small pickup T-boned it.
So we were subpoenaed to Salem Municipal Court to testify. It was really quite an honor, and all things were done in the greatest decorum and courtesy.
The police officer, as well as the offending driver, had established for the judge that the red car had attempted to cross from a parking lot. I think the police officer wanted more information from us witnesses as to how the guy entered the intersection. Did he stop and look, or just slow down before entering the road?
When my turn came, I was asked to describe what I saw. We were traveling far behind the pickup when it ran into the red car.
"The first thing I noticed was the cloud of smoke from the airbags deploying, and the pickup truck being shoved to the right. And the red car passing in front of the pickup.”
Policeman: “Did you see the car leave the parking lot and enter the roadway?”
Me: “No, I really wasn’t aware of either vehicle before the collision.”
Policeman, referring to his notes: “So you don’t remember telling me that the red car entered from the parking lot?”
Me, smiling: “Uh, I could have told you that, and if so, it’s probably more reliable than what I can remember today.”
Policeman, rolling his eyes: “No further questions.”
Besides the honor of participating in the greatest justice system in the world, I also got paid eight dollars and twenty cents for that testimony.
I love America!