Officer Bob

“The Mercedes-Benz SL-888: More than a Car, More like a Kingdom.” read the letters, printed in deep black ink, in bold, sans-serif font. It was printed on heavy card-stock that stuck to the sweaty fingers of Traffic Officer David Randall, who was sitting in his police cruiser, behind a row of foliage, to the east of US Rural Highway 148. An image of the Mercedes in suspended animation, moving though blurred trees, taken from a low angle, took up the rest of the front of the sales pamphlet resting in the officers hands. Officer Randell looked up. Generally, on US-148, one could expect a car about every 30 seconds, other than that, a grain silo, and a dilapidated wire fence, denoting the separation of one dead farmers land from another was the only thing out the dusty window of the cruiser. A police issue radar gun sat on the dash, in its holder, three red hyphens blinked at the policeman, indicating the weedy knoll across the highway that it was pointed at was moving at exactly zero miles an hour.

The pamphlet that now reclaimed Officer Randall’s attention, had appeared under the windshield wipers of his cruiser when he was at a shopping center, responding to shoplifting allegations at an Ace Hardware. The pamphlets, he assumed, were placed by a representative of nearby Hatsville Mercedes Benz, as the luxury car manufacture wouldn’t engage in such bourgeois-pandering in a town like this. The sticker on the back that read “Hatsville Mercedes-Benz. We have Mercedes-Benz’s” confirmed his suspicion.

Inside the pamphlet, white serifed letters read “The Powerful Magic of a Sports Car, The Magical Powers of a Time Machine.” it went on. “For every kid who balked at having to come inside for dinner at the end of a summers day, this is your payback. Your very own machine that lets you take control of time. More time to for fun, less time to wait. Is it magic? or just fantastic?” David Randall was hardly ever late for dinner as a kid.

A crusty beep emitted from the dirt caked speaker of the gun on the dash. A tan pickup had driven by at sixty-two miles an hour, two over the limit. Officer Randall shifted in his broken-in, heavy-duty black cloth drivers seat and kept reading.

“Incomparable Engineering, Incurably Enchanting” proclaimed red, tall letters. “As much fun as the SL-class brings to the open road on a sunny day, its advanced engineering helps you feel confident and cared-for in moments of darkness or duress.”

As the policeman was observing the difference between the “DISTRONIC”, “PARKTRONIC”, and “Premium 1” trim packages, his speed gun flashed “82”, the twenty year-old speaker gave only a dull crackle. The traffic officer never noticed the rusty sports car containing a stolen flat-screen and two twenty-somethings recovering from near cardiac arrest induced by the sudden sight of a police cruiser. “Officer Bob.” said the driver, after a while. “Who?” asked the passenger. “It’s what they call it when they put a mannequin in a cop cruiser and leave it somewhere to get people to slow down.”

In his cruiser, Officer Randall rolled down his window. Along with the breeze he was after, the sound of a finely-tuned engine wafted into the cabin of the sedan. Around the corner, appeared, unmistakable to Randall, the exact car from the pamphlet, the Mercedes-Benz SL-888. He swallowed and snapped his eyes to the display of the radar gun. “Master of Your Domain.” read the pamphlet sitting in the cruiser’s passenger seat. “The world’s most beautiful and helpful instrument panel puts you in complete control of your luxury vehicle.” “Zero. Six. Zero.” read the speed gun. Officer Randall leaned forward against his steering wheel and scanned the rear of the car for a light out, or a missing license plate, in desperation. “Relentless Engineering. No other manufacturer gives half as much thought and care to the smallest details of your auto’s electrical and climate control systems as Mercedes-Benz”.

Officer Randall sat back in his seat as the car faded. Looked at his clock, and calculated the remaining time left in his patrol of US-148.

Note: The Mercedes-Benz SL-888 is a fictional car (as far as I know). The text source is both direct and synthesized from actual Mercedes-Benz sales brochures.