Growing up in Allen, I was always familiar with small town ways and rules. As I aged, I began to have problems with small towns, most were my fault, some were not, and others just to my ignorance.

Sometime around 1993, one Wednesday night after church services, we met our son Kevin at downtown Lula, south of Allen. I was parked on one side of the west stop sign of the Stonewall road, left my lights on, Kevin drove up and parked on the other side of the stop sign. We were visiting and after a few minutes, I noticed two or three people yelling at us. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I asked Kevin, he said they were cussing at us and then they began to throw rocks our direction. I told him that we had better get out asap. He headed back toward Stonewall and we toward Allen. In my mirror, I noticed that the angry people got in their car and appeared to be following him. So Loretta and I turned the car around and headed that way also. We never found which way they went, and nothing more happened. My only conclusion was maybe the people thought we were watching them or possibly, they thought a drug exchange was taking place. Anyway, I bet I am one of the few people that ever got run out of Lula, Oklahoma!!

One time after Christmas in 2008 we were taking our granddaughter back to meet her mother at Miami, Oklahoma. Before we left Ada, we got some donuts and Domineque got some chocolate milk to drink on the way. We also had her dog with us. We drove by way of Highway 69 going north to meet the Will Rogers Turnpike. About the time we topped the hill where all the truck stops are at the junction of HW 69 and the turnpike, our granddaughter started throwing up and the dog started barking like crazy. I turned around to try to get the dog quiet. I started slowing down, looked in my rearview mirror and there is a Big Cabin police car with all the red lights blinking. I stop, get the chewing, including a ticket, having no idea where Big Cabin is. During all this time Loretta has our granddaughter out of the car helping her. What a disaster! We are allowed to proceed, and I am suppose to mail the $110 ticket to Big Cabin City Hall, wherever that is. Since that occurrence, I have always been careful going through that area, even though Big Cabin is one half mile off the highway and two miles from the turnpike junction. When I mailed the check, I put several question marks by their address. Oh well, lesson learned.

Another time, Loretta and I were driving through Arpelar, Oklahoma and were stopped by two Pittsburg County Deputies. As they were walking up to the sides of the car, we noticed that both officers had their hands on their guns. We both rolled down our window, Loretta asked the officer on her side, “May I help you.” It really startled him, but not as much as we got the old Dodge advertisement, “You’re in a heap of trouble, boy!” I’m not sure who they were looking for, but it wasn’t us. To our surprise, our granddaughter had taken her seat-belt off and had lain down to take a nap. More smart talk to us, “Tell Miss American back there to quit her beauty sleep and buckle her seat belt.” No ticket was given, but there was a sour attitude from the officers. I respect law officials, however, after any danger is removed from the stopped car, respect should be a two-way thing.

I was driving through Calvin around 9:30 one night, coming from the east and not seeing any traffic or police car, when I got to the Post Office in the middle of Calvin, I put my foot down and headed on faster. When I topped the second hill, I see two cars in my mirror with red lights, I’m thinking, there must be a drug bust going on. After another half-mile, I realize they are after me. I pull over and stop, show what they need, and listen to them tell how fast I was going. About the same time, I and one of the officers recognized each other. He was a former student of mine at Holdenville High School. We had a good conversation, I get a warning, but not a ticket. This time it was good luck.

I am almost embarrassed to write this next one. When I was in the Real Estate business, I got to know the roads from Ada to Hughes County really well. Many I had never been on, never got lost. One spring when the annual Atwood Fire Department Auction was going to take place, I decided to put something in the auction. I loaded up my item and headed to Atwood. I thought I knew where everything was in Atwood. I got there and drove around and got lost. Finally, I found the location. Now, I’m thinking, “How do you get lost in Atwood?” Growing up in Allen, we would hear stories about how fast the Atwood boys in their cars would take the curves on old Highway 48 going through town when school let out for lunch or after school. Again, like the Lula incident, I bet I’m the only person to ever get lost in Atwood, Oklahoma.

I have to write this story about an Allen man, the late Dub Dicketts, getting stopped in Southeastern Oklahoma. Dub’s given name was Cassius. Dub was a wellrespected veterinarian at Antlers, Oklahoma. A few years ago at an Allen Alumni Street gathering, probably a year before he died, he told me about getting stopped by a Highway patrolman somewhere around the Antlers area. This young patrol office had Dub in his car, lecturing him on the speed he was going. He looked over at Dub after examining his driver license and said, “What do people call you”. Dub said, “I looked at the officer and politely said, ‘people your age, call me Mr.’” Dub related how that broke down any chance of just receiving a warning ticket.

By luck, I have never gotten a ticket in OKC, Tulsa, Dallas, Atlanta, or any other large city. Be careful, sometimes the city limits of some small towns are almost like OKC. Earlsboro, Oklahoma is one-half mile off Highway 9 between Seminole and Tecumseh, but it has city limits is all the way to I-40 and is patrolled. Do you possibly think my problem could be that I am driving and Loretta should be the one at the wheel? She has only had one ticket in her driving history, and that was because the 1972 Cutlass would go so fast, even with your foot off the gas pedal. I even got to see it happen. I was driving up another street and saw her coming with the police car behind her with all the lights on. She was stopped and received a ticket. The next day she was telling the story at work and two more teachers said they also got one the same afternoon. It seems there was a targeted enforcement effort for speeding educators that afternoon.

This last event was actually in a larger town, McAlester. Our family moved to Allen in 1977, a year later on October 31st, I was making a purchase in Ada, and the checker told me that my license expired then night. The correspondence had not gotten to me about renewing my driver license. The next day while driving to Crowder where I was teaching, I made a really good effort at not speeding. After getting into McAlester, I take my shortcut through North Town. While driving on Electric Street, later named Gene Stipe Bvld, later renamed Electric Street, I was stopped. The officer explained that I was not speeding, but someone in a red car had been on that street, and he was checking me out. I didn’t say anything about my expired license until he found it. I explained the situation and he told me to get my license renewed and then take it to City Hall in McAlester and I would not get any kind of ticket. That day was probably the only time I did not speed while going to Crowder.