Guilty as charged. Or not charged, in this case. But still guilty.

On our way to the Uptown Art Fair on Saturday, I got pulled over for speeding. I was a mile away from my exit in Minneapolis, and I PASSED an unmarked patrol car. Sure enough, she pulled me over.

I did all the right things. Put on my hazards, kept both hands on the wheel, rolled down the passenger window, and answered all of her questions politely. Yes ma'am, no ma'am, I do know that I was going too fast, I have no reason for speeding, yes, I do have insurance, I promise to slow down, etc.

Trooper Frandrup was no-nonsense, stern, and polite. I'm guessing she's really good at her job. I also think we could be friends and have a good chuckle over this whole crazy situation. She seemed nice enough. After all, she did let me go with a warning.

It could have been my stellar driving record, my honest face, the fact that I was so darn polite, or just because she felt sorry for me for being stupid enough to pass a trooper while speeding.

Either way, I'm thankful for the warning, I've learned my lesson, and I want Trooper Frandrup to know that I drove the speed limit all the way home. Pretty much.