a blemish on my spotless record

I love Job, but he is a bad driver (are driving skills genetic?). On Job's birthday we were headed into a neighboring town after baseball games, when we were pulled over by the state patrol. I knew it was state patrol because of the gargantuan hat he was wearing with the cute little tassels. They asked Job for the car registration and my driver's licence. At first I was relieved. Job's drivers licence expired that day. But, then as I thought about it...hey...wait one minute...I WAS IN THE PASSENGER SEAT! What did he need my licence for? "Click it or ticket ma'am," said the patrolman. I got a ticket for not wearing my seat belt. Everyone else was strapped in like cosmonauts but not me. I was however the only one able to reach the grape cool-aid (that he made all by himself, sans-sugar) when it slipped out of my little ones hand as he fell asleep. Is having clean upholstery worth $124? Is wrecking my perfect driving record worth $124? Who knows. Maybe I'll ask the judge.