I could tell it was "Coot" by the distinctive rumble of a vintage Harley from blocks away. Moments later he was in my driveway swinging the kickstand down and shaking my hand.

Sgt. Cooter is an old pal of mine and a motorcycle cop who works for the "govmint." He stopped by the other day to say howdy, and before I could complain to him about how tough it is to get anywhere these days, he went into a small tirade himself.

Sgt. Cooter is a bit of a throwback... a big southern boy with a forced, gaptoothed grin. At over six foot five and with his too-small helmet and shiny boots, Sarge is hard to miss. He likes things "they way they used ta be," but if you can get around his gruff, good-old-boy demeanor, he's pretty smart.

"Ya see, people don't pay attention no more these days," he frowned. "They are too caught up in tech-nawl-ogee."

What do you mean Sarge? "I pulled over a lady in a cadillac SUV for annoying lane change t'other day and she would not put her cell phone down to speak to me!"

Annoying lane change?

Sgt. Cooter ignored me, "I had to scotch-tape the citation di-rectly on her rolled up winder."

I asked Sarge what he would tell all the motorists in the Puget Sound region if they were all assembled in the Kingdome and he had the only microphone. He scrunched up his face, took off his little helmet, rubbed his crewcut and began; " FIRST of all, I'd ask them, 'WHAT are you doin' in the KINGDOME...that thing ain't safe!"

I stopped him by reaching up over my head, putting a hand on his big shoulder.

"No Sarge, bad choice of venues...just tell me what you'd tell the average driver if you could have their undivided attention."

Sgt. Cooter softened a little, then perked up, "Then I'd say, 'WHAT is the hurry here people?"

"Every day I'm on the road I am amazed at how fast people drive and not just exec-yoo-tives on their way t'a some meetin'...it's everybody, moms, teens, grampas and grammas...Where is the fire?"

After Coot calmed down a little, I managed to get a list of his recommendations and have condensed them here for all of us impatient leadfoot drivers:

Cell Phones: "What in tarnation could be so important that a phone call cannot wait 'til you are near a real telephone? Make your calls at home, make 'em at work, and save the free long distance for calling Aunt Sue out in Pigsfoot County."

Speed: "If you speed, I'm event-chu-ently gonna get you. Do people want a $101 ticket? If they'd just plan ahead, slow down, and drive the limit...they gonna get where they wanna go. But when they're all red-faced and mad about me writin' a ticket, I tell 'em, 'You know those folks in front of ya...that could be somebody's grampappy, take yer time, son!'"

Sarge bent down, grinned and tilted his head in way that almost made him look cute.

Seat Belts: "'I still catch people pretendin' to be wearing their belts when I pull 'em over. When they reach for their wallets or purses, the belt zips back into the holder and 'shazaam', I got 'em. Click it or ticket! I love that sayin'."

Signals and Mirrors: "Them shiny things on the door and on the windshield, they ain't just for puttin' on makeup, I swear, Scotty, and a turn signal ain't just for courtesy...how ya s'posed to know what t'other guy's thinking if he don't use the darn signal?"

Yellow, Red and Green: "Had a kid tell me t'other day that the traffic light was t'wasn't yellow, red or green...said it was 'sorta orange'. What is this about? This ain't rocket science, people. Green means go, red means stop, and yellow does not mean 'go fast,' it means you'd better be ready to stop!"

Road Rage: "If you are drivin' angry, you cannot make good decisions. It's a patience-thing again. Somebody cuts you off, let them drive angry and you stay cool. It's gotta start somewhere...cause otherwise, t'ending is not good, trust me."

Coot's ancient hip radio crackled to life and he plopped his brain bucket back on, "I'd best be moving along, Scotty. It is good to see you well, and when you wanna come fishin'...the pond is full and Otis is fat and sassy."

Sgt. Cooter lives on a farm outside of Orting and favors catch and release fishing. This is smart since he only has one catfish: Otis. Any last bit of country advice, Coot?

"My momma always used to say, 'You can only tell people so much, then it's up to God and a dar-winian event to fix things up.'"