January 17, 1989.

I cross a bridge in my car. I am alone. There are three lanes:
two together and one which curves toward the right. I am one the
two-lane when I decide to take the right lane even if I know I
don't have the right to. I am wearing driving gloves. Suddenly,
a red light blinks on dashboard and I realize I am having car
problems. A policeman stops in front of my window and gently
tells me I should't be in this lane. I am indignant and tell him
I had no other choice: my car stalled, though I know it's not
true . It's only a case of bad luck I stalled, but I did make a
conscious choice to be in this lane.

The policeman escorts me back to the two-lane road, on the left
and tries to stop a car , with his thumb out, as if hitchhiking.
Of course, no one stops for a policeman. I move up a bit and as
soon as I put out my gloved hand, a car stops. An old lady is
driving. Her front passenger seat and the back seat are down and
the entire area is covered with jewels. and precious stones. I
get in the car, and without moving any of the jewels whatsover,
we drive on and cross the bridge.

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