ORANGE COUNTY VOICES : ‘Pro-Choice’ Sticker Creates an Unwitting Target : Bumper sentiment on car provokes the cursing by another driver and the sarcasm of a passing patrolman.

Like many an impoverished writer struggling with her craft and the recession, I own a car past its prime and aesthetically none too pleasing. I decided it was time to go the “kitsch” route, thinking bumper stickers might give the ride character.

Mind you, I did not seek out the portentous bumper sticker that was to cause me considerable grief: When I signed a pro-choice petition, I was handed the sticker printed in brightest blue and yellow. It read simply: “Pro-Choice.”

I am only marginally “political” in my life and public assertions. But I am pro-choice. I do have an opinion on this one. I placed the sticker directly in the center of my battle-scarred bumper and proceeded to forget about it.

The very next day, I was driving back to south Orange County with my 10-month-old niece in tow. Jocelyn seemed happy enough in the safety baby seat beside me as we headed east along Irvine Boulevard.

We approached the El Toro Marine base where a young man (presumably a military man judging by his haircut and uniforms hanging in his pickup) made it his business to accost me. Deliberately he slowed to match my speed and yelled out his curse: “Baby Killer! You’re a baby killer! You’re gonna burn in hell!”

I glanced sidelong at my passenger, warbling baby sounds and shaking up the apple juice in her bottle. I felt tremendous relief when he finally pulled behind me and, after flipping me the finger, turned down Desert Storm street onto the base.

Troubled, I pondered this as I drove toward Foothill Ranch where my sister, Jocelyn’s mother, lives. Then, in the rearview mirror I caught sight of the flashing red light of a Highway Patrol car. I pulled over and waited for the officer.

As he handed back my driver’s license I could feel him scrutinize the car, me, the baby. I felt relief when he finally spoke of my offense: the infant blanket hanging from the visor was illegally impeding my view, he said.

“The sun. I . . . was trying to shield the baby from the sun,” I explained.

He seemed to sneer at that. “That’s surprising, given your bumper sticker stuff,” he offered as he walked away.

I whisked the infant blanket from the visor. The baby blinked and squinted against the sudden brightness. I patted her leg and drove her home.

That day I removed the offending bumper sticker. Never again will I “impede my view” as a driver for the sake of baby’s comfort. The sticker’s removed, my conscience is clean. And I’ll keep my distracting opinions to myself.

Perhaps now officers and military gentlemen can take their minds off my womb and my fate in hell and get their minds back on their business.