Lost Composure on U.S. 50

I was sitting on the porch this morning, sipping my coffee, when I came across a little article sent to me in the mail that made me blow coffee through my nose. Not from the caffeine, mind you, but from the kind of laughter that sneaks up on you like a sneeze in church.

A woman got stopped by a Nevada State Trooper on U.S. 50, known as the Loneliest Road in America. And not for no reason—it’s the kind of road where the only traffic jam you’ll run into is if a tumbleweed gets confused.

Anyway, this woman—who I like to picture as the type who keeps hard candy in her purse and says “Oh heavens” a lot—gets pulled over for speeding. Nothing dramatic, just a touch too much lead in the foot, likely heading home or maybe rushing to work.

The young trooper steps out of his cruiser, starched uniform, ticket book in hand, probably trying to look older than he is. As he approached the window, the woman smiled, saying, “I’ll bet you’re going to try and sell me a couple of tickets to the Nevada State Police Ball.”

Now, I don’t know if she meant it as a joke or just a friendly jab to ease the tension, but what happened next is what landed the story in the paper.

Without missing a beat, the trooper replied, plain as day, “Ma’am, the Nevada State Police don’t have balls.”

And just like that, time froze.

According to the article, there was a long, uncomfortable silence—the kind where even the crickets go quiet. Then, in what I can only imagine was a mix of embarrassment and a strong desire not to speak again, the young man snapped his citation book shut, turned around, and walked back to his cruiser.

He didn’t say another word. Just drove off in a hurry, like maybe he left the iron on at home.

The woman, for her part, sat there, probably wondering if she’d imagined the whole thing, and thinking twice about making small talk with law enforcement from now on.

After reading the article, I sat back in my chair, wiped the coffee off my shirt, and thought, if the Nevada State Police ever do decide to throw a formal event, they oughta to call it a gala. Something tells me it’d be a lot safer.

Out here, we try not to take things too seriously. We know life’s full of strange moments and slip-ups, and sometimes the best thing you can do is laugh, shake your head, and carry on. That poor trooper will probably never live it down, but I’d like to think someday he’ll laugh about it, too.

Once the sting wears off.