If we hadn't left at midnight, I wouldn't have been so tired, but, well, there we were. While Joe slowed down to meet the 35 MPH speed limit, he apparently wasn't slowing down fast enough for the Township Police car that we passed, and a blinding strobe of light filled the car. As we pulled off the main road and came to a stop, I kind of grinned at the irony of having both a cased shotgun and caged rabbit in the back of the car, but decided not to say anything. Joe was nervous enough as it was. "Hello, Sir. Can I have your license, proof of insurance, and registration, please?" License and registration were easy enough to find, but our proof of insurance had expired. I frantically dug through the glove compartment to see if I'd put it in there, wondering the whole time where at home I'd have left it. "Do you have any guns in the vehicle?" Gulp. "Yes, officer, a shotgun in a case in the back." The motor of the first car to pass us made the town seem even lonelier, and was barely more robust than a scooter. "Any ammo?" Gulp. "Yes, officer. I keep it in the glove compartment while driving." The sound of the papers rifling was drowning out my own mumbles of how stupid I was not to look at the little slip of paper before I put it in the car. I'd only put it in there last week, so we at least had SOMETHING to show police when we got pulled over. "That's good, that's good." "Officer, I can't find anything other than that slip. Is there any way you can look us up with that?" I plead. "No problem, no problem." He turns his conversation back to Joe. "Are you law enforcement?" Confused, Joe just looks at the officer. "Oh, I noticed the magazine in your back seat. The Gun Review. I have the same one from this month." "Oh, no. I got that from her father." He hands Joe his license and vehicle registration back, having never walked back to his car to check us out. "Just be careful out there, folks, and keep to the speed limit. You were only about 4 over anyway." We waited until he walked back to his car and turned off his blinding lights. I'm thoroughly convinced that they don't expect you to be able to drive away after they stop you. Joe breathes a sigh of relief, turns the car around, and heads back out on the highway. "Do you think he saw it?" he asks. "I'm pretty sure it's hidden well. I mean, all he saw was a shotgun box." My calm reply obviously doesn't sit well. But, it will have to do.