The Treaty

I am lucky; I see a lot of unique things out where I live. The neighbor feeds their wild mustang in the pasture in my front yard; I have an Amish neighbor across the way that is a horse trainer. He is constantly driving a different buggy or a different horse by the house, what a nice man.


The neighbor with the wild mustang also has an Arabian that could be a brother to the mustang, because they look so much alike. Recently my dog Andy has been trying to make friends with them. They are about twenty hands taller than Andy. None the less, Andy always tries to get a smell. As the neighbor says “Andy must think that is one big dog.”

Andy and the horse called Spirit have sort of come to an understanding. Although at times I feel like the local law enforcement when the two get together, they have come to an agreement, sort of a Peace Treaty.

Me, I have been working on my own peace treaty. For some reason the Iowa Highway Patrol has taken a liking to me. They have stopped me so many times; I am on their Christmas card list. I do not know why I am a frequent target because I am a great driver. Yet still Bi-monthly I am stopped. No complaint just fact, bless their heart they are just doing their job.

Late last winter-early spring, I was going to town to check on a couple of students I had on Saturday school. I had gotten out of bed, put on my old jeans, flannel shirt, and fishing boots and walked out the door. I jumped in my old pickup truck and went to town. (That sort of sounds like a country and western song doesn’t it.) I went to school and checked on my two students, then went to get a cup of coffee and started my way home.

As I was going home, I may have exceeded the speed limit a bit. I met a patrolman and he pulled me over. Because I have been stopped so many times, I know they like to see your hands at the top of the steering wheel. (Bless their hearts I would never want to face the danger they do every day.) For some reason this time I forgot and put them in my coat pocket. That was the wrong thing to do.

The officer was a young man and he asked me very politely to please step out of the car. As I got out of the car, I dug my hands deeper in my coat pocket because it was cold. Wrong thing to do, He said “Sir would you take your hands out of your pocket?” I realized at that point he was a little concerned. I removed them slowly.

He said “Sir, do you mind if I search you?” I didn’t want any trouble so I said go ahead. I had on a huge leather jacket with multiple pockets and things in all of them.

He said “Do you have anything in your pockets that will harm me?”

I responded that I didn’t and he began the search. I had a pen in one pocket the size of a hypodermic needle, he felt that and asked me to remove that, then he felt a plastic baggie in there (I had bought cookies at a bake sale) and he asked me to remove that.

By this time, the poor scared young trooper was actually shaking, he was a little frightened. I’m sure he thought what does this big ugly looking guy have in his pockets? As he was searching me of course a couple of my students and one of my neighbors drove by. I knew it would be a long time before I would hear the end of this.

I do not know if he forgot why he stopped me or if he felt guilty, but after he searched me he let me go.

That would not be the last time I saw him.