> E: Yep 3 in a year in IL and you go plead your license priv to the judge,
> thank goodnes mine laughed... The MI boys were more than kind (we run some
> serioso equip incl cb, valentine, scanners) for 50.00 ea we were rolling....
> Insurance, oh, about 300 extra for 3 yrs... the fines well I have my highest
> (117 slowing down/55 zone) framed and lightened my wallet to the tune of 360
> bucks... All for the sake of speed... Did cool me down, no tickets (knock,
> knock) since those three... Getting more stealth and less balls as I age,
> guessin', but this RS2 is going to need to be tested properly......
OK, now I've just _GOT_ to tell the story of my most major run-in with The
It was Halloween night, a few years back. And it was a beautiful
night -- clear and cool, no rain, snow, ice, etc. And I was in
Albany, NY, but I had to be in Boston, Mass. the next morning. And it
was very late -- 2 AM or so, and I really wanted a chance to get some
sleep and take a shower, etc before my morning meeting -- but I was
starting out fairly well rested.
Fortunately, I had my '81 911SC with me. (My 911 is a gray-market
car, and was substantially tweaked beyond straight euro-spec.)
We (my girlfriend and I) left Albany at about 2AM, and took the Mass
Pike clear accross Mass. About an hour into the trip, the speedo was
reading in the vicinity of 160 MPH (but I knew it read kind of high --
the car was outfitted with smaller rubber than stock, and I never
bothered to re-cal the speedo) or so, and my trusty Passport was on
surveilance duty. Anyway, I crested a hill on the Pike, and as soon
as I was over the top, the Passport goes from full dark to full alert
-- and immediately blue strobe lights light up the valley about a half
mile down the road. In a flash, I was past the Trooper (who was
parked on the median), and then came the Major Judgement Call: should
I stop, or should I run? Of course, the Pike is a toll road, and if I
attempted to run, I would certainly have to get past a toll barrier --
so that made the decision rather simple.
Fortunately, I made the right decision: I immediately pulled over --
or as immediately as one can when one is travelling close to
Warp 3 (3x the limit -- this was the days of 55). A few minutes
later (though it seemed like an eternity), the Trooper pulls up behind
me, and gets out of his car.
"Son, do you have any idea how fast you were travelling?" he
"Not really, though I'm sure I was moving kind of quick."
"Is this a Turbo?"
Oh boy, now I'm in for it! He wants to know about my car. Why?!
"No, it's just a 911SC." I reply, trying to avoid the urge to
simply rip up my own license myself, right on the spot!
"Is it modified?"
"Not really, it's a euro-spec car, brought in a few years
"Son, you were travelling in excess of one hundred forty miles
an hour, on a public highway which is clearly posted for a maximum
permissible speed of fifty five miles an hour. Do you understand
"I guess so."
At this point I'm seriously nervous, and about to go to pieces!
"Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do: since it's late,
and I didn't have to chase you -- I really appreciate that, can't tell
you how many fools have tried to run from me, but I always get them in
the end -- and I do mean GET THEM -- doesn't matter how much horse
power you got, I get you -- I'm going to write you up for 123 in a 55
-- that way, I don't have to do excess paperwork explaining why I
didn't just toss your butt in jail. Wait here."
I didn't bother asking for just a warning!
After what seemed like an eternity, the Trooper returned with an
ordinary traffic ticket, and said,
"You can just mail this in -- it's $50. Have a nice evening."
Oh thank YOU!!
Trully amazing, I thought my life was over, but it turns out to be a
minor matter of $50 by mail. And no points (out of state ticket).
And no insurance effects!!!!
So, having learned absolutely nothing from the incident, I continued
on my merry way, keeping the speedo at merely Warp 2.5 or so.
But about an hour later at about the city limits of Boston, there is a
toll plaza whre you hand in your toll ticket, and pay your dues. So
I'm slowing for the plaza, when all of a sudden, a big American car
(rectangular headlights spaced far apart) is tailgating me -- and I'm
doing 70 or so.
After a few seconds, the tailgaters high beams go on, and I'm nearly
blinded. So now I'm thinking, "who is this a**hole, and with
absolutely no traffic in any lane, why is he tailgating me?" But the
high beams are soon followed by blue strobe light emanating from every
surface of the tailing car. So I pull over.
"Good evening officer, what seems to be the problem?"
"Your speed -- I've been trying to catch up to you for the
past five miles. You blew by me at approximately ninety miles an
hour, in a zone posted for fifty five miles an hour."
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you, or I would have pulled over."
"I was not using RADAR, I just visually estimated your speed."
So I got my second ticket of the evening, another $50 by mail ticket.
But we made the Albany-Boston trip in just over two hours, with a net
cost of $100 in tickets, and one tank of premium. Faster, cheaper,
and more convenient than flying in an airplane -- and it was certainly
MUCH MUCH more fun!
Today, I'm not quite so insane, though I still do "blow the carbon
out" once in a while. And fortunately, KNOCK ON WOOD, the Quattro seems
to have a sort of "stealth" feature which makes is practically
invisible to law enforcement-types.
(PS: For the lawerly-types: the events and charcters depicted in this
story are purely fictional, and no resemblance to actual events,
places, or people -- living or deceased -- is intended.)
email@example.com | [M]athematics is not the study of intangible Platonic
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