The Spaz and the Spurious

First thing is first: explaining why I can't buy beer anymore.

Driving home from work two Fridays ago I found myself with wide open(ish) roads ahead of me. I had ditched work two hours early and gone to watch a matinée. And I looked this good. Of course I was in a good place.

As it turned out, I was also passing through several places at quite a clip. I didn't care though, I'd been increasing my speed for several months in what I call the "Post-Ticket Cycle of Shame(lessness)." I made great time, but back in town someone was riding my ass. So, I slowed down another 10 miles per hour. In a 35 zone.

"Take that, dick!" I said aloud.

A few moments later said dick flipped on the cherries. It was a cop. And worse, a state cop. And worse, a woman. I find the fem-pigs are always the most angry at you for breaking whatever law you might have ignored. It's like they always followed all the rules in school while watching everyone else having a good time ditching, skipping, or ne'er do welling... and now it's pay back time.

Her attempt at pay back was the following:

Fem-Pig: *waddle waddle waddle* "Sir do you know why I pulled you over?"

Dashing Rogue (me): I thoughtfully pause, then: "Honestly, no."

FP: *exasperated, appalled, abbreviated sigh* "You were driving like a maniac. You passed three cars at once back there!"

Internally I smiled as I remembered doing it and realized why she must have pulled me over, and replied:

DR: "I don't recall doing that anywhere, how fast was I going?"

FP: *extreme embarrassment, and a look of dejection* "I... well, I don't know. I never got close enough to clock you. But I saw you at route 3 and you... blah blah blah"

She said more but I already wasn't listening. She couldn't catch me from Rt. 3 to where I was in Jerseyville?! That's eight miles. I know I was hauling ass, and my car has great ability to ignore curves, but holy shit. I outran a cop for eight miles. I was smiling externally at this point and that's where she got even more flustered.

FP: *sweating and adjusting her considerable girth* "Look, I know you were speeding. I know you were. You passed a car and then a minute later you were a mile and a half ahead of it. That's, you could have killed someone. That's absolutely unacceptable."

Now, there's no way I could have been a mile and a half ahead of a car that was already going 60 miles per hour without using NOS. But her estimate isn't that far off. It was great. She knew I broke the law and she couldn't do anything about it. I felt like I was in the mafia.

DR: *smiling wickedly, with a flourish* "If that's true, I'm sorry. I agree. Completely not acceptable. So what needs to be done, Officer?"

FP: *snippy now, and more flummoxed* "Well I think you know I can't give you a speeding ticket. I didn't clock you speeding. You're getting a following too closely citation. You can pick your license up at the court house in five working days."

And off she went. I still can't buy beer because I look so young, and my license is being held ransom until I pay my debt to society. But I don't need it, I'm still intoxicated by my accomplishment. If I had just taken the turn before town she never would have found me.

But I've learned my lesson: the next time I find myself rocking out as I play leap-frog down 109, make damn sure to keep the radar detector running... and maybe invest in a police scanner.

So, has anyone else got away with something this good during my month off?


P.S. This whole adventure reminds me... ask me about the time I went to jail. That's a post in and of itself.