THE Doakes family (real names deleted just in case a certain cop has a memory like an elephant), Joe, the Missus and eighteen-year-old Oscar were burning up the state highway at twenty mph above legal par. With spring in the air and birds on the wing, Joe Doakes didn’t notice the motorcycle cop until the telltale putt-putt was hard aport.
“Pull over.” the uniformed intruder commanded. Doakes gulped and complied, his little woman muttering something pithy about the family budget. Coming to a halt. Joe wondered if there’d be any point in making the old college try at talking his way out of a ticket.
The cop was the impassive type. His face resembled a raw side of beef, When he spoke, his lips curled down. His entire manner defied Joe to try any tricks on hint. Doakes sighed and decided it was no use. The officer was silently thumbing open his fatal book.
Feeling the necessity of saying something, Joe stammered, “Sorry, Officer I’ll just have to take the blame for this one. We were talking and I . . uh . . . forgot to watch the needle.”
The reply was, “Mmmph!” THAT moment, .Joe’s eye fell At on the brand-new motorcycle the uncommunicative cop (now reading the number plate) had ridden up on. “Say, That’s a ‘ 48 Indian, isn’t it ?” “Yup . . . license an’ registration,” the cop muttered,
Joe handed them over, “Gosh, That’s a neat hike, You know, we’re buying one for our son. To tell you the truth though, we’re a little worried he’ll be reckless with it. How’s this model?”
The cop’s pencil was poised over the book. It paused a split second, wavered and dropped. Something remotely resembling a smile split his face. “She’s a beauty. Got the new silent kick starter, No more noisy clank -when you turn ‘er over, Be sure you get that for your boy!”
Doakes smiled appreciatively, “I sure will remember that. You . . . uh you wouldn’t care to give him few hints, would you .. . about safety first? I’d appreciate it.”A shimmering halo of good will suddenly burst out all over the cop’s
face. Ticket book and pencil disappeared as if by magic. “Why, sure! Always glad to help a rookie out. He the boy?”
Propelled jet-assisted by Mr. Doakes, young Oscar came hurtling out of the back seat grinning sheepishly, nodding, The big cop put an arm around his shoulder and drew hint over to the motorcycle “Sit on ‘er, son, Go ahead. I know you’d like to !”
OSCAR didn’t need urging. threw himself into the saddle and gripped the handlebars. “Boy,” he gulped. “Boy!”
Waving after the disppearing motorcycle, Oscar put in, “I got his number Pop. If I don’t get my motorcycle NOW, I’m gonna tell him you were kidding him!”
Joe glared and then broke into a smile. “You’ll get it, son, Just don’t forget what he told you, that’s all.” THE END
