After looking at more than thirty houses, we finally settled on a custom built home on Skyline Drive. I loved my new home, especially happy knowing that I could spend as much time as I needed in decorating it exactly the way I wanted – a luxury I had never experienced. For the previous twenty-five years, I knew that no matter how much I loved my house and the country I lived in, that two years later we would be moving to another country, and possibly even to another continent.

When I felt that everything was perfect, I decided to take the car and drive around the neighborhood to get acquainted with the side streets. I was driving down this narrow street, somewhere between Skyline Drive and River Road, listening to Ray Charles singing, “I can’t stop loving you.”

Suddenly, I heard a police siren and when I looked in the rear view mirror I saw a motorcycle policeman motioning for me to pull over.

This very handsome officer, who stood about six feet tall with disarming, pale blue eyes, poked his head in the car window. “Lady, do you know you are driving down a one way street going the wrong way? May I please see your driver’s license?”

I looked up at him with a very surprised look and said, “Wo bu dung Mei Kwo hwa, dwei bu chi” (meaning “I don’t speak American, I am so sorry”). He repeated what he said, and I repeated my answer. He scratched his chin, and with a suspicious look on his face he grinned before saying, “Lady, you can go. Just don’t do it again!”

I waited until he left and then decided to go home before I got into more trouble. That was the only time I’ve ever spoken to a policeman. I did not feel guilty, knowing that I did not commit a serious crime, but if I ever have to talk to a policeman again, I hope he will be as handsome and as kind as the one that first stopped me.