Copping an Excuse? (A Rhymed Recitation on Traffic Citation)

Friday evening, driving out West,
Putting our new four-wheel-drive to the test,
I spotted the lights, which curtailed our fun-fest
And veered for the shoulder, then, under arrest.

I glanced in the mirror, perfecting my smile,
Touched up my lipstick and smoothed my hairstyle.
I've talked my way out of this, once in a while.
But c'mon, did I think I was still juvenile?

"Hey, Ma'am, I clocked you at sixty or more,"
He said, as he leaned on the side of my door.
I glanced up and felt like a tyrannosaur;
This kid couldn't have been more than age twenty-four.

This wee whippersnapper was simply polite;
He said not to drive like a meteorite.
He wrote a citation and bade me goodnight,
Then he hopped in his squad car and sped out of sight.

I learned a most difficult lesson right there,
For when I was twenty, the cops didn't care.
They'd give me a warning and say it with flair,
But now I had better slow down and beware!