Nobody was hurt, my vehicle still ran, and the damage was repairable if the insurance company lobs a little cash at us. Everything should have been okay. There shouldn't have been any issue. I should have only been a half-hour late into work, and a few hours of the following week spent at the junkyard and in our garage. The entire event should have been a foot-note on my driver's record, perhaps an amusing Livejournal post, and an anecdote to share at college.
Everybody always says to me, “If you get rear-ended, then it is never your fault. They can't give you a ticket.” Well guess what? * Holds up a citation * They did!
Uh-huh! Along with ridiculous information about me, it also says “Signal Requred [sic] Turn/Stop/Slowing” Now, I'm sure you're saying, “You should have had your turn signal on if you were turning. You caused the accident.” Hold onto your butts! Here comes the punchline!
My turn signal... was on.
So, why the citation? I mean, I was fully stopped, waiting for some cars to go by so I could turn, somebody way back behind the line of cars behind me wasn't paying attention, and the poor fool had us all sample each other's vehicles through diffusion. When they asked to see if the lights worked on my truck, I turned the key to hear the comforting “click, click, click, click” of my turn signal; it was still on! Thus, there couldn't be any witnesses who could honestly say the damn thing wasn't on, and I know it was on. Why the citation?! How could I possibly get a citation for a non-existent infraction?
We're going to call him “Captain Science Corner.” Captain Science Corner is a sturdy-built thirty-something year-old man in a state trooper uniform. When he speaks, people listen: he speaks with authority and clarity. He arrived last on the accident, and they brought him to my vehicle. I had been there for over and hour and was growing impatient and nervous. He bent over, examined the damaged portion of my truck while saying “hmmmmm,” and then nodded. He rose, smiled, and pronounced, “In my professional opinion, the turn signal was not activate at the time of the collision.”
“Whaaaaaaaaat%!!!!11@??????????” I responded.
“Well,” he started, “You see this filament inside the bulb? It blah blah blah super-hot blah blah sags blah blah blah.”
“Ohhhhhhhhh.” marveled the group of about eleven officers.
“WTF???????????????!!!” I said to myself.
Captain Science Corner tips his hat at me and smiles. “Hold on, I'm not done. Blah blah blah blah during a collision, blah blah blah blah should be out. Thus, blah blah.”
“Ahhhhhhh!” ejaculated the now informed mob of officers as they began to applaud.
Captain Science Corner went through the entire explanation a few more times for them, while I hobbled over into the ditch, collapsed, and sobbed uncontrollably.
Captain Science Corner was utilizing a very unexplored and mysterious branch of forensics: Hillbilly Forensics. Powered by the field of asscience (the combination of ass and science), this represents an incredible new tool for complete idiots -- like Captain Science Corner! -- to administer completely ridiculous tickets to innocent or random people. So long as nobody uses common sense (the damn turn signal isn't on all the time: it blinks, stupid!) or any sense at all (wait, is there any actual recorded studies showing this is admissible evidence for a citation? I have a healthy feeling of doubt.), then Hillbilly Forensics is impenetrable!
OH WAIT. *Contests the stupid, stupid ticket.*