Submitted story: Jury Duty

Around the middle of his life, my Dad bought a Harley and began to embrace the riding lifestyle as a serious hobby. Mind you, during the day, he was a mild-mannered engineer for a big company whose name I'm sure you have heard. In fact, he became so immersed in motorcycle culture, my mom felt forced to by her own Harley and learn how to ride, just so she could spend time with my Dad.

Anyhow, at some point, as happens to us all, my Dad received a notice in the mail informing him that he was required to report for jury duty. If there was anything my Dad detested, it was jury duty! Don't get me wrong, my Dad would do anything for the good old USA, he just didn't want to "get involved" with the justice system. He spent many hours pondering how he could get excused from the duty, legally of course.

But Dad wasn't a student, didn't have an airline trip booked, and so on -- basically he was going to have to report for duty. So, his only hope was that he would somehow NOT get chosen to sit on a jury. What could he do to stack the deck in his favor?

He took the entire afternoon off from work that day. He went home at lunchtime (he was scheduled to report to the courthouse at 2 pm) and began the transformation: he put on all of his riding gear -- black leather chaps, black leather vest, bandana, and all the rest of his riding gear -- and THEN proceeded to the courthouse. Guess what? He didn't get picked.