A Driven Opinion:
Be Careful When Asking Directions in Burbank
Burbank’s Finest Just Might Follow You
By Terry Miller
It was a lovely, quiet morning for a drive. Bright, clean visibility and a mild Tuesday spring morning. My back seat passenger was a young feral kitty I was taking to the vet to get neutured thanks to the wonderful people at FixNation in Burbank who spay and neuter and vaccinate feral cats for free to help keep Los Angeles’ cat population in check.
Once I approached the final phase of my epic journey to Burbank from Pasadena, the google map directions confused me – it’s not too hard to do this these days. Suddenly I spied, with my baby blue eyes, a Burbank motorcycle police officer giving someone a ticket…”I’ll ask him for directions…police officers are after all to serve and protect!” I said to self.
Guys are notorious for not asking directions, but in this instance I was late and thought I was lost!
He was the epitome of the nice, neighborhood cop…polite, helpful , and more than willing to point a lost motorist in the right direction to transport this poor kitty to get “fixed”.
As it happened, I wasn’t that far from my destination just off San Fernando Road when I asked said officer for directions.
I thanked the polite officer, popped into the Honda Civic, buckled up and was off to the appointment for which I was already about 15 minutes late.
The poor kitty was not too happy about this trip at all. First he was trapped, spent the night in our bathroom and now he was in Burbank…the last place he , or I for that matter, wanted to be. Surgery to prevent any more unwanted kittens is the only way to help this guy and the colony where he lives.
There is a vocalization only cat lovers can truly understand and empathise with when a feline is in a trap. They are not at all happy and the sound can be quite disturbing and somewhat distracting.
As I approached the turn for my destination , I happened upon my rear-view mirror.
Flashing red and blue lights indicated to me that something was going on. I pulled over a bit to allow the police to pass, and to my surprise , that something going on was apparently my driving ability. I was stopped by a Burbank motorcycle police officer, approximately 4.5 minutes after I asked for directions from one of Burbank’s finest..
The officer approached my car and asked for my license, registration and insurance. I took one look and the pleasant officer’s face and said, “you were the very kind officer who just gave me directions for FixNation.”
Replying in the affirmative and smiling, he proceeded to write me a ticket, for speeding. The officer claimed he clocked me at 50 in a 35 MPH zone …remember this is a 2004 Honda Civic…not a Maseratti or a legendary MGB sports car. He already had inside information about my destination, methinks!
I have a completely clear and clean driving record. Not even a hiccup! I never thought I’d laugh about getting a speeding ticket but this situation was somewhat ironic to say the very least.
My feline friend became suddenly quiet at this point, I guess he felt he’d better be on his best behaviour when an officer of the law is writing his chauffeur a ticket.
The officer handed me the ticket to sign( promising to appear, but not admiting any guilt) telling me that there are a lot of trucks coming and going from the industrial area where he pulled me over- I didn’t see a single truck at 7:55 AM – and that is why they keep the speed limit low on this road Speed is a common problem along San Fernando Rd. apparently.
I smiled and thanked him, apologized profusely for not paying attention to my speedometer, although I didn’t believe I was actually speeding. I may not have been paying attention to my speedometer but I know I wasn’t driving any faster than any other motorist on that stretch of road at that particular time.
The ticket said the Laser clocked me at approx. 50MPH. He smiled and said I hope this was the ” last bump in the road for you today. Drive carefully.”
I assured the ever-so-kind and personable officer I would, and drove off, slowly with a smile on my face. What are the chances of that happening, I mused.
The moral of the story…think twice about asking a motorcycle officer directions, at least in Burbank. They know where you are going!