It had seemed a perfectly normal day of school; homework, teachers preaching the word of their subjects and lots of time wasted sitting. What I didn’t realize was that the time period between the end of school and football practice would change my life forever.
“Today is going to be a good day,” I said to myself as I took out my paper license that I had been bragging about throughout the school day and put it into my wallet. As I walked towards my green mustang I could feel the sun radiating on my skin. I breathed in the warm autumn air as I opened the car door.
My foreign exchange student and I sat in silence as I fired up the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
Finally, we reached a straight country road.
“Do you want to go fast, Tolya?” I asked the silent Russian next to me, an idea mustering in my head. “Yes?” The eager Russian replied. A smile crossed my face.
My senses seemed to fizzle as my speedometer cruised past seventy… Eighty… My eyes were locked on the road ahead as my smile widened… Ninety… Adrenaline plowed through my veins while my heart mimicked the pistons pounding in my engine. “Let’s go one-hundred!” The voice next to me screamed excitedly. Everything seemed to stand still in the car, images outside blurred as the colors morphed together. But the details inside the car stayed crisp and pristine.
I had my license (for two days to be exact) and was a free man. I finally knew what freedom felt like… “100!” I screamed. The Russian seemed very pleased.
Only after I had decelerated to seventy did I notice the car I was soon to meet was a cop. That’s about the time my adrenaline, heart and car stopped.
As I sat with my window down, my car stereo off and the county sheriff’s car sitting behind me, Tolya and I made eye contact for about five seconds and suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter. After a few minutes of solid laughing we managed to stop ourselves.
I shook my head and said, “What are the odds?” Tolya replied, “I have been here for two months and never seen a cop on this road,” in his silly Russian accent.
The cop cae to my window, put his hands on the top on my car and leaned forward. I attempted to avoid eye contact, hoping he wouldn’t see me. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” He finally asked. Many answers came to my head: ninety, somewhere around ninety, maybe a little over ninety… But only one answer seemed right, which; ironically, was still wrong. “One-hundred?” I managed. Not many thoughts passed through my head after that as I tried not to say something stupid. “One-hundred and two!” A small giggle passed through my head as I heard the correction, which I easily contained.
“Do you have any idea how insane that was?!” That was the last sentence I heard from the cop, although he continued to talk for a while longer. I was still pretty buzzed from the adrenaline rush.
Somewhere in the middle of the sheriff writing me up a ticket, three of my good friends drove by, mouth wide open and one laughing. I just smiled and waved.
The cop finished writing my ticket and sent me on my way to the one place I didn’t want to go; (compared to a jaw full of jagged teeth at one point) home.

Nearly five months after being haunted by the number 102; by community members, classmates and odd coincidences, I was on my way to school. I was running a little late, nothing a little speeding couldn’t fix. But something about that day felt a little off.
I hadn’t seen that cop on the road since the incident and I really had to get to school on time… this wasn’t the first time I was late. Battling with myself; half of the way there I finally decided, I will not speed. It was about that time I looked out my window to see a very familiar car. On the side of the car, it read County Sheriff. I simply smiled, shook my head and kept on driving.