C’est la vie

We have talked about small town police chiefs lately. It caused me to think back to an incident that happened in our fair little town a few years ago.

Bertram had a new police chief, I guess he was. It was a department of one, I think. So I’m not sure how chiefly he was.

One day we headed out of town, to San Antonio to a wedding. Madeline was driving, with me in the front passenger seat and daughter in law Katherine in the back seat. This was a time when Bertram had the notable distinction of being one of the worst speed traps in the state.

Our driver was doing what I thought was a fine job as we left town. I doubt that I had even told her what to do or not do with her driving by that point.

Well here comes our new police chief meeting us as we left the city limits out west of town. He whips around. Next thing I know he is writing her out a speeding ticket for a few miles over the speed limit.

When he got his business all finished up with Mrs. Lewis I decided to interject myself into the situation. I said “mister I know you’re new to town and all, but did you realize writing tickets to nice local folks like this lady isn’t going to leave you in this position very long, don’t you?”

With that I found out this man had some foreign language about him. He said “C’est la vie”. I wasn’t sure if he just talked down to me or just what, but he turned and went back to his car.

As we pulled out I whipped out my iPhone to look up what he’d just said to me. I wanted to know if he had cussed at me, had been rude or maybe said be safe and have a nice day.

I actually think what he was saying was “oh well, whatever will be, will be” or something of that sort.

Anyway, it all turned out alright. And yes, I think he was the shortest term police chief in Bertram history.

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