I was driving along a highway – Highway 98 – somewhere in rural California. Yes, California is not all San Fransisco and Los Angeles, it has actual farmland, too.
I was trying to follow somebody else’s car, which had been easy up to now. But we happened on one of those little towns where the highway just becomes the main drag through town. The sun was setting, and as we got into the center of town, there was some kind of local festival going on.
There were kids in the streets, banners up, police blocking off intersections, the whole schmear. The traffic was backed up waiting for some little kids meandering across the road, so I popped my camera out and took some pictures of the festivities. When the traffic moved, I hopped back in and drove to the next intersection. The Sherrif’s deputy waved my car to a stop so some kind of float could get onto the street. This was going to be a while, so he came to the car window.
“Thanks for your patience”, he said. “And you should try a slower shutter speed. Your pictures will be less grainy.”
I looked at him. Typical rough looking muscle guy who could have me on the ground with a knee in my back without even breaking a sweat. “Thanks, but I don’t have real steady hands. I would probably blur the pictures.”
“Maybe. But you might be able to slow the shutter down a little and take a chance.” He said, waving the floats onto the road ahead.
I smiled. “Thanks officer.”
He waved me on and in my rear view mirror said, “Have a nice evening”.