I woke up this morning feeling run over by a truck. Apparently, I’m no longer attacked by the napmonster but am instead attacked by the “what alarm?” monster that prevents me from acknowledging that my alarm clock even exists, so for the third time this week, I overslept.
And in my zealousness to get to the office (ahhh, air conditioning: today is a good day for it), I got a little pedal-happy and found myself zipping along at 80 mph. Oops, I thought, and immediately brought it back down to my usual 68. At that point, I was alone on the highway. But I’ve long felt that speeding on 66 is an invitation to a hefty fine, and so I really try to slow it down.
A few miles later, I was being passed by two cars when we crested a hill and the most nondescript unmarked car I’d ever seen was sitting at the next turnaround. The officer behind the wheel looked up as the three of us went by. I glanced down; I was doing 71, so the people passing me were going significantly faster. They realized they’d been spotted and immediately cut over, one in front of me and one behind me, both slowing down.
But the trooper had pulled out and was bearing down on our little group. As he pulled adjacent to the car behind me, he slowed for a moment and I thought he was going to cut in behind _me,_ for god knows what reason. But then he sped up again, lights on, and pulled over the car in front of me….
And the car behind me.
He must have signaled to that car to pull over when he also sicced the one in front of me, so I got into the left lane and watched all three cars go on to the shoulder.
For all the mornings I’ve cursed the people who push me down the highway because I drive the speed limit on my 50 mile commute even when I’m running way behind, this morning I felt really vindicated, but I was also painfully aware that when I’d caught myself doing 80 that my next thought was “Well, I’ll be that much later if I get a ticket.”
It’s like I summoned the speed trap into existence, or something.
Posted in Out and About, Road Trips by: Helen
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