Driving While Brown

That is the term Tim used. I had never heard it. Anyway, it was a good way to describe my little run in with the law today.

We live off a dirt road up in the mountains. We were warned about the illegal aliens that come down the mountain in front of our house and the 'coyotes' that bring them. We have only lived her a few months, but have seen several groups of illegals. So, it is great to see the Border Patrol up here often.

This morning as we passed the mail boxes at the entrance to the dirt road leading up the mountain, we saw a strange guy (Mexican) out there with a car (lowered with a metallic blue paint and tinted windows) we did not recognize. He gave the neighborly wave that everyone gives up here, so we paid it no mind. As we continued to drive down the windy road off the mountain, I looked in my rearview mirror and there was that car on my tail with what looked like cop lights flashing. What?!? Weird...I told Tim I wasn't pulling over (the kids and I were joining him on his road trip to Rancho Mirage today). Tim tells me I have to and that the sirens are going off now. Well, me and my bad hearing, I could not hear the sirens, but I sure could see those lights, flashing, and flashing, and flashing. Anyway, if you have been on the road that leads to our mountain, you are fully aware that there is NO WHERE to pull over for miles. So, for about 2 miles, I made him follow me. Tim at this point is telling me how important it is that I pull over and so on and so on...I planned to do it, just not in the middle of no where. How do I know that this guy is really a cop?!?! Anyway, I finally found a safe place to pull over and the kids are wondering what is going on and I roll down my window for this guy. He gets out of his car and is in jeans and some white t-shirt and is all tatt-ed up..but, then he pulls out a badge from under his shirt. "Border Patrol", he says. He tells me he is doing a check, and wants to know my citizenship. I tell him U.S. He continues to DRILL me. Wants me address, where was I born, how many kids, the whole deal. He then goes and takes a look at my plates, which happen to be personalized, and comes back and says thank you.

So, this is what happens when driving while brown. I actually am very grateful. I want them to do their job. I want them being aware of their surroundings. Even if it means pulling my total suburban mom-mobile, with my NOTW sticker on the back, over on the side of this windy, lonely road.