Reformed reporter After receiving a citation for not wearing a seatbelt (to the tune of $110), Dawn Timbs, Staples, is spreading the word to other drivers...”Click It or Ticket.” Like the Ten Commandments,

apparently the “Click It or Ticket” seat belt

law is more than just a suggestion.

A lesson I learned the hard way recently, to the tune of $110.

I wasn’t alone.

According to the recent Staples Police report, there were several local renegades like me (including my saintly mother) who weren’t really sure that the seat-belt law applied to them.

It does.

Unfortunately, I read a public service announcement warning drivers about the upcoming heightened seat belt enforcement the day after I was ticketed.

Too late.

I don’t really have a good excuse. It was a Tuesday night and I was anxious to get home and watch the last 15 minutes of American Idol. Noticing that my ‘low gas’ light was on, I decided to first stop by the gas station and fill up my car.

It’s only three blocks, I reasoned. Why put on a seat belt?

Officer Wisch didn’t see it quite the same way.

I saw the lights flashing in my rear-view

mirror and hoped perhaps there was a ‘70’s Night’ disco show somewhere downtown.

However, when a dark-clad stranger approached my window and asked to see my ID, I didn’t get the feeling he was making sure I was old enough to watch a Bee Gees cover band at Twisted Sisters.

He wasn’t.

No, Officer Wisch was more interested in the fact that I was not wearing a seat belt. I don’t think he cared to join me in a chorus of ‘Stayin’ Alive.’

He might have considered serenading me with the Bee Gees’ penned ‘Guilty.’

Or maybe not.

When he returned with my driver’s license and a ‘seat belt violation citation,’ Officer Wisch glanced in my window and said, “Looks like you’re low on gas.”

I was aware of that.

“That’s the reason I didn’t have my seat belt on in the first place,” I started to explain, but decided not to waste my breath. I’d already missed most of American Idol.

After double-checking that my seat belt was indeed ‘clicked,’ I raced home (within the speed limits) to call my mother (who is not big on seat belts, especially in warm weather) and warn her about the concerted efforts to enforce this law.

Too late.

My mother had already had her own encounter with Officer Wisch.

“I was mortified,” she told me over the phone. “It happened right in front of the office. Some of our customers saw me. I’ve never gotten a ticket before,” she added, her voice beginning to break.

Although she was upset about the ticket, my mom said she thanked Offi cer Wisch for not turning on his flashing lights. “It could have been so much worse,” she whispered, in case the neighbors three miles down the road might hear.

I shared my plight the next day with my co-workers at the Staples World.

“Join the club,” Gary Mueller said to me, reaching out to shake my hand.

“You got a ticket, too?” I asked.

“Well, almost. Wisch gave me a warning,” he added, quickly withdrawing the handshake.

A warning.

Okay...I know he’s known around town as the “Mighty Mueller” and perhaps Officer Wisch wasn’t willing to confront someone with his reputation, I told myself. That must be it.

Two days later, however, when my other co-worker ‘Mac’ McKimmy shared the news that he, too, had just been given a warning by Officer Wisch for not wearing a seat belt, I had to wonder what I had done wrong.

Perhaps my van is the wrong color, I reasoned. Or maybe Officer Wisch doesn’t know I work with the Mighty Mueller. Maybe he’s not a fan of American Idol or the Bee Gees.

“Reason all you want, Dawn,” I said to myself. “The bottom line is, you broke the law and you’ve got to pay the consequences.”

I’m looking to put a few quarters in a local juke box. If they’ve got the Barbra Streisand/Barry Gibb single, “Guilty,” I know that there are at least 20 other Staples drivers besides myself who could sing the chorus with me.

Remember. Click It or Ticket. It’s not a suggestion...it’s the law.