h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I woke reluctantly at ten fifteen this morning after a long night of dreamless sleep. I was expected at work by ten thirty. The problem was the night before I had forgotten to put all of the crap that I needed for work in one place so I could be out of the house within five minutes. I remembered where most everything was except for my cigarettes and my keys. Afer a few minutes of groggily wandering around with eyes half open trying to locate my things, i decided to just go without the smokes and use the spare car key. I got into the car and drove off at around twenty after ten.

I have this problem. It only happens when i am driving, but it frightens me because it has been described as a symptom of muliple personality disorder, and i do it an awful lot. Especially when i am on the road within ten minutes of rolling out of bed. I will just be driving along on my routine route to school, work, or my parents house when all of a sudden, I space out. I start thinking about something and the next thing I know, its ten minutes later and I dont remember anything that happened to me in this time. I am usually just fine when I come to, as though I have been running on auto-pilot for several minutes.

As you may have guessed, this happened to me this morning on the way to work. The difference this time was that I was brought round to conciousness not by my own free will, but by a policeman in a yellow shirt standing in the middle of the road and flagging me down. I panicked because I was very very startled by this and began to swirve around the road rather violently. I almoast hit the man. I was trying to figure out why he was flagging me down because I was only going ten miles above the speed limit. At first, I would probably have been able to get away with just slowing down a little and going on my merry way, but after the business with almoast hitting the cop, I had the strangest feeling I was expected to pull over. Before long I was sitting in my car by the side of the road with the policeman's friends (three cop cars and two motorcycles).

Before the policeman even got round to the car, I had my lisence and insurance papers ready to present to him. He said "Ma'am, are you trying to kill me?"
I answered "No, I am just very tired and late for work."
"Do you know what the speed limit is on Peachtree Industrial Boulevard?" he asked.
"45 miles per hour" I answered.
"Well then why do I have you clocked at 61?"
I noticed that his nunmbers differed invariably with mine, but I was in no mood to heckle.
"Because Im rather late for work," I finally answered.

He seemed as satisfied with this as he would be with any story I could have given him after almoast taking his life, so he walked round to the rear of my car to copy my tag number and other pertainant information onto the ticket. After several minutes, he came back round to the driver's side window and asked me to step round to the back of the vehicle. I did this, and found him pointing disaprovingly to a sticker on the back of my car that reads:
"F**K ART! this sticker is paid for by your local committee to stop all forms of creative expression." I looked at him sheepishly as he told me that this was considered public profanity and that I could receive annother ticket if I didnt dispatch of it immediately. I thought to myself about the irony of the situation as I obediantly removed the sticker. I went back to my seat in the car and a few minutes later the cop had finished with the ticket. "You drive safely now," he said. I promised him that i would do no less, and drove the remaining thirty five seconds drive to work.