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Marie gave herself a real treat for her sixty-fifth birthday. She bought that new motorcycle she’d had her eye on for so long. It was sleek, and fast, and candy-apple red. And it could go!
Soon she was cruising down the highway. The bike rode so well, soon she was racing down the highway.
Ooops! She heard the siren and saw the flashing lights in her mirrors. “I can outrun him,” Marie thought. And she was flying: eighty, ninety, one hundred miles an hour.
Marie hadn’t made it to sixty-five by being foolish. “What am I doing? I’m too old for this kind of risk.” And she pulled over.
The policeman walked up just as Marie pulled the helmet from her very, very gray hair.
“Look, lady,” he said. “I don’t want the ribbing I’d get for having trouble stopping a… woman of your years. So, if you can give me a good reason for speeding, I’ll let you go this time.”
Marie thought for barely a second. “My husband left me ten years ago. I thought you were bringing him back.”