The Captain and his Daughter

While the cat's away the mouse will play...

Before I begin my story I’d like to give a shoutout to Pete Harmon and “Fig,” both airline guys and former Marine Harrier Fighter pilots. They have an awesome podcast which pertains to flying stories, mostly military. It is called “So There I Was” and can be found on Apple podcasts..here’s a link: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcasts/so-there-i-was/id628848482

If you have a chance check it out, the stories their guests tell are frigging great!

Additionally I have another book out just in time for Christmas…”The Angel of Christmas”. It can found on Amazon books and is available in all three formats of publication..Kindle, paperback, and hardcover. It’s not a long book so it can be read in a day if you have the time. The book description is available on Amazon, so check it out.

To find the book search Amazon Books and use the book’s title and include my name “Roger Johnson”. If you do read the book could you please write a review and if you want, click on follow the author since I have a previous book out and I have two more getting ready to be published. Not one book is the same, with regards to genre and the fourth book will be the beginning of a series, “The Boys of Summer”

Now, on to my latest story….

If I could go back in time, to any point I wish, I would certainly choose a better path in my life, my personal life that is, than the one I’ve lived so far. I think many of us feel the same? Not sure, I’ve never done an informal poll.

My personal, relationship faux pas have gotten me a few ex-wives, taken hundreds of thousands from my coffers and have probably taken years off of my life expectancy.

I do however take solace in the fact, given my relational mis-steps with women, that there is a proverb in the Bible that bluntly states, “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails” (NIV, Proverbs 19:21) So, in trying to cheer myself up when I think of the money, tears, and emotional strain of all those failed marriages, I guess God has lead me right where He wants me….maybe that’s why He gave us wine as a buffer.

In that I’ve had wives, a few plurals there, and now Exes, equal number of plurals, the upside is I’ve have five children. Two from the first marriage and three from the second. Sadly the first born of my second marriage died at 17 months (documented in an earlier post on here, “Life and Death”) but so far the two children born after Autumn-Paige, or before (my first two) have managed to thrive in life, though not without causing me emotional pause (read concern) due to their somewhat dangerous earthly endeavors .

Having a child do something wild and crazy is nothing new in the annals of parental history, but my special circumstance occurred while I was a single dad, airline pilot, flying around the world every month, and having custody of my two youngest kids; I can assure you, I never saw being single and having custody of two teenage kids as something I would be a part of when I was in my teens. But, none-the-less you make do with the cards with which you’re dealt and that’s what I was trying to do with my youngest two kids..

It’s not my intent to dive deep into all the trials and tribulations of my four living children, now adults, and their crazy exploits, but I do want to elucidate upon an interesting night I had with my youngest child, a daughter a few years ago.

I just had returned from one of my usual around the world trips on the night in question. I was a B-777 Captain and Instructor and in my fifties and as I alluded I had custody of my two youngest children. My son was 19 and my daughter 17.

In preparation for dealing with my children when I was flying a trip I installed 3 cameras inside my house, all of them downstairs and strategically located to observe entrance doors, the hearth room/kitchen and other hot spot areas in the house. The kids knew of them. I did that so I could monitor what mayhem they may try to inflict upon said home and also, the real reason, to monitor the house for intruders. I did have a sophisticated alarm system and a garage door monitor that recorded when the main garage door was opened and closed and I had the ability to open or close the garage door from anywhere in the world, just like I could look at the inside cameras via the web. Finally, as with many people, I had a RING camera at the front door. The house was well protected and monitored for my peace of mind and the kid’s safety. In addition, I had watchful neighbors who knew of my single dad status and were wonderful in helping me or the kids if warranted.

On this evening I had gotten back from an eleven day round the world trip with the final leg being a Hong Kong to Memphis nonstop. The nice thing is the flight arrived fairly early in the evening, around 11, and the drive home from the airport was short.

My usual decompress routine after arriving from a trip was to pour a glass of wine, turn on ESPN and sit on the couch in the hearth room and try and empty my mind as I regurgitated, mentally, the entire trip in my head. My dog, after a vigorous tail wagging event upon greeting me at the door when I walked in, would join me on the couch in my de-stressing also, sans the wine, and fall asleep.

On this particular evening, just as I got comfy on the couch and Cooper (my dog) closed his eyes, I got a text from my son. It said: “It’s 12 AM, do you know where your daughter is?”

You know, as a parent, what you know. And those of you who are parents know what I mean. Even though my son’s text lacked inflection, emotion, or deep character, I knew…something was up with my daughter and in his very cheeky way, my son, the older brother, was cynically tattling on his sister.

I knew, let’s call her Tiffany (not her real name) was attending a sleep over with a bunch of her cheerleading friends that Friday night. Because I’m not a helicopter dad, I didn’t check my kid’s whereabouts (using the location finder on our phones) every ten minutes. My old man was pretty laissez-faire in my up bringing so I was the same with my children and to be honest they were very good kids. I never had to worry my son was setting off bombs in the neighborhood (like his dad did..don’t ask) or drinking and driving, or my daughter drag racing her car or drinking underage. My Lord I was so naive.

So the text comes from my son and I respond “at a sleepover.” But, without waiting for another text from him I look at Tiffany’s location. Hmmmm, it was showing she was on Houston-Levee road, not more than a couple of miles from me. Then, I recalled seeing, since I drove down that very same road just a few minutes ago, a police car had a vehicle pulled over there. The gut churns.

Still in my my uniform I let Cooper, the genetically modified 60 pound whippet (they normally run 25 to 35 pounds and I’m kidding about being genetically modified) jump in my now obsolete family hauling SUV (obsolete because now that the kids had their own cars, riding with the old man and your friends was passé). Cooper took his place in the seat next to me, he loved to ride shotgun, while we headed to the scene of the “crime.”

Nothing prepared me for what I was about to discover on this night.

I pull up in front of the car the police had pulled over and parked. Immediately I recognized the car that the police had stopped was my son’s, a beautiful blue Mustang replete with mag wheels, throaty exhaust, and some minor engine horsepower enhancing mods. His car was cherry and I thought he and Tiffany must be together since I never thought he’d let his sister drive his car.

An older, very nice policeman walked up to me after I got out of my car and asked me what business I had in stopping. I told him that was my son’s car and was wondering what was going on. I suspect being in uniform calmed him down so instead of getting confrontational with me he asked me if I had a daughter named Tiffany. I was like, yes, I do, what’s going on here?

It was then that he dropped his guard and became a father, knowing that what I was about to hear would affect me, in both a good and bad way.

“Well sir, your daughter is kinda amazing actually.” As he was telling me this there was a much younger officer talking to the two ladies who had been driving in the car, Tiffany being one of the two.

“I’m training a new recruit and we were driving southbound on Houston-Levee. (the road is a two to three lane, divided roadway with a median separating the opposite direction traffic) As we passed your daughter our radar lit up like a Christmas tree…95 MPH (in a 45). The young recruit immediately lights up the patrol car and is driving south looking for a place to get through the median so as to see if we can catch up to the speeding car. As my recruit was stepping on the gas with the intent to find a cut through, I thought we will never catch that car. But, your daughter immediately pulled over and stopped. I saw her hit the brakes and pull over even as we continued south to find way to head north. I just couldn't believe it.”

I’m just nodding and listening, thinking of ways to torture my daughter as he talked.

“We stopped behind your son’s car and walked on opposite sides of it, my partner on the passenger side. Your daughter already had her driver’s license and insurance out. I said to her, “Do you know how fast you were driving?” and she says, “Well I was trying to see how fast I could get my brother’s car up to and hit 98 when I saw you, so I pulled over knowing I was in trouble.”

“Sir, in all of my years as a patrolman, all of them, I’ve never had anyone answer so honestly, and I’m including clergy, as your daughter. I just couldn’t believe it. I must commend you as a father, and your wife too (he didn’t know I was divorced) for raising such an honest child.”

The policeman continued, "I asked her what she and her friend were doing and she said they were attending a sleepover party and had made a Sonic run, getting food for the girls. Her friend over there is dressed only in a tee shirt and underpants, so I have no doubt that what she said was true about the sleepover.”

I acknowledged that indeed that was the case, well that’s what Tiffany had told me she was doing.

In my mind, at this point, I didn’t know how to resolve the dichotomy of a speed obsessed daughter, but with such a disarming innocence.

I wish the speeding was the end of it, but there was more, and that “more” spilled over to Tiffany’s brother.

Continuing with his narrative, the policeman then said, “After I talked to your daughter about the speeding and told her the speed I clocked her at, I asked if we could search the car. She said yes, so we we just did a visual inspection from outside, the young officer over there using his flashlight to look inside the car. He found Angry Orchard Ale on the floor of the backseat which, I’m sure you are aware, is an alcoholic beverage. We then confiscated it. I asked her how she got it and she said it must be her brother’s and he must have left it in the car. I then asked her how old her brother was and she said 19.

“Doooohhhhh….” was my immediate and very basic, neanderthal thought.

“I asked her to call her brother to verify that the alcohol was is and she did, I heard your son verify that it was his and that yes, he was underage. I didn’t pursue that line of questioning any further, not wanting to know how your son got the alcohol, but pretty much figuring he had fake ID. We did not find any open containers in the car, but I did ask both girls to step out of the car and was going to do a breathalyzer test on your daughter. When she got out of the car she asked what would happen if she flunked the breathalyzer. I sighed…I put the breathalyzer down and then gave her a physical test. She passed. I mean your daughter was racking up charges while only seventeen, at a rate I haven’t seen in years. But she was so sweet and compliant and respectful, never arguing with me or the other officer and never giving an attitude. As a father of a girl myself, I am so impressed with your daughter’s demeanor. It pains me to have to charge her with speeding and minor in possession but that’s what the other officer is writing up, in addition to careless driving, due to her being 50 MPH over the speed limit. I could tow her car, but I’m going to release her in your recognizance, so you can follow her home. Also, I’m not going to have her go before the local judge, that guy would fry her given the severity of the speeding and the alcohol in the car. I’m kicking this up to the Memphis juvenile court, I think they will be more lenient, given that the judges there are used to seeing teenage rapists and killers come before them, so a cheerleader from the burbs with a speeding ticket and minor in possession is pretty light stuff to them”

“I have to ask you though, your daughter said she had her own car. I was wondering why she was driving her brother’s car?”

“Officer, I can’t answer that as I am amazed my son would let his sister touch his car, let alone drive it without his supervision, but I will say, if you saw my daughter’s car, it was a hand me down from her brother, it is like 15 years old and a beater and has more dents on it than a golfball. I wish she was driving it tonight because the only way her car would get to 95 is in a free fall after driving it off a a high cliff. I think my son had floated that car in Wolf River a few times when he owned it. I will be asking my boy why Tiffany was driving his car tonight. I know he’s out with his girlfriend right now.”

I continued, “Officer I can’t thank you enough for allowing Tiffany to drive her bother’s car home tonight. I know you could have taken her in, and towed the car, so I appreciate this. I can assure you, no judge could be more upset than I am right now. I’m going to have to be creative in my punishment.”

“Ya know sir, I can’t tell you how to parent, but your daughter’s honesty is so refreshing. I don’t want to say go easy on her, but take into account that she was very compliant and honest. She could have run from us and I assure you, we never would have caught her because of the divided road, but instead she pulled right over. I’ve never experienced that before.”

After receiving her prize, a very detailed description of her infractions, Tiffany got in her brother’s car and I followed her home. The other girl’s father came and got his daughter while I talked to the more senior police officer. That girl’s father, the Head Coach of the local University Football team, was not happy, but in essence his daughter was innocent of everything and not given a ticket.

When we got home Tiffany sat before me in the hearth room and said “Ok, I know you are really pissed at me, what is my punishment?”

Just about then my son rolls in with his girlfriend.

“Tiffany, ya know, let’s just call it a night. I’m going to process what happened and we’ll talk tomorrow, I have no idea what a fitting as punishment is for doing 95 in a 45 MPH zone. But, I do have one question, why didn’t you just keep going? Why did you stop? The police would never have caught you,” I said, truly wondering what was going through her head then.

“Dad, that would have been illegal!”

“Oh,” was my only response. Did I mention Tiffany was a blonde?

Upon hearing the speed Tiffany was clocked at, my son was incredulous and asked her why she would go that fast on Houston-Levee.

“Dan (not her brother’s real name), you went 130 in that car, so what’s 95? I wanted to see if I could match you.”

Things were definitely going downhill now…

“Yeah but I was smart where I went fast. I cruised Nonconnah for a few miles and checked for cops and then I went back down the same stretch of road and hauled ass and it was late at night when no one was on the road. Tiffany you never should go as fast as you did in the city limits, too many cops and cars around. That was stupid.”

“Ok, guys, let’s stop the talk about speeding. Tiffany, I can assure you, if you ever get another speeding ticket again while living in my house, you will be walking, riding a bus, or getting rides from your friends for a very long time, do you understand me? And Dan, don’t give her anymore driving tips, OK? Evidently she seems compelled to replicate your civil disobedience.”

“Yes Sir,” said Tiffany respectfully. “Yes Sir” added Dan. also respectfully. They really were good kids.

“As for the alcohol, I’m not mad at you for that, but, I do have to ask, did you have a drink tonight?”

“Well, Dan left the Angry Orchard in the car so me and the girls had some. I only had one can though.”

“Well”, I said, “At least you didn’t have the can in the car.”

“Well I did, I put it under my seat when I was pulled over, the cops never looked there, but if it helps it was empty.”

“Oh, well that’s comforting,” I said cynically.

Turning to Dan I asked him, “Where did you get the Angry Orchard?”

“Ca’mon Dad, everyone I know has fake ID. You even had fake ID when you were our age,” He responded bluntly.

Ugh. Trying to recover from the fact that I told them of my exploits when I was their age, I said, “Yes I did have fake ID, but I was responsible. I never carried the alcohol in my car, let alone an open container (I emphasized container and looked at Tiffany), and I always let someone else drive if I’d been drinking.” I said triumphantly, as if I had extricated myself from a difficult conundrum with regards to demonstrating the “Do as I say, not as I did” form of parenting.

“Ahhh Dad, you told us the guys you drove with had been drinking too. Doesn’t that make you responsible too?” asked my wise son.

“Go to bed Tiffany, I’ve had enough innocence and honesty tonight. And Dan we’ll continue this line of questioning when I can come up with a better answer,” I said, almost mumbling.

As for the rest of the story: Tiffany was grounded until her court date (about a month later) and I figured the judge would be harder on her than I was. I honestly figured Tiffany would lose her license for a few moths, do community service, etc. But, I was wrong.

I was on a trip when the court date came and I asked Tiffany’s mom if she could escort our budding NASCAR driver to her appearance before the judge, which she did. After the court appearance my Ex said before the accused goes before a judge the offender meets with a person of the court who goes over the charges with the juvenile and that court appointed person determines whether or not the offender needs to be brought before the judge. In Tiffany’s case, the rather intimidating court official chewed Tiffany out to the point she was sobbing uncontrollably and profusely apologizing for her speeding. The lady who chastised Tiffany, a black lady, added that a speeding white girl in the suburbs, a cutesy cheerleader to boot, was small beans to some of the other hardened kids that the judge had to deal with that day. So, being compassionate and wise and seeing Tiffany’s remorse, she dropped all of the charges. Between the policeman in the small town who stopped my daughter and the court official who let her go, knowing Tiffany truly was repentant, I realized that their really are some good, wise people in the world.

I am happy to say Tiffany has never been caught speeding again, the operative word being “caught.”

COPYRIGHT OCTOBER 2022, Roger Johnson, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED