Search This Blog

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Memorable Escapes...

Another blog (The Man Fan Club) that I read occasionally posed a question:
Why does it always seem like we remember the bad things that happen to us?

His close call with a city civil servant on patrol can be read here: Thankful Moments

I have to admit that he might have a point. Most of the recollections I have encountering officers of the law on the road haven't been the happy kind, but there WAS that one memorable escape...

It was many years ago on a Sunday morning when the national speed limit was still 55mph to "save gas". I was cruising in the center lane on the 101 toward San Francisco without paying attention to the speed.

It was an unusually rare moment in that I was the only car on a nearly empty freeway. Because it was sunny, no traffic in front or on either side, I hadn't been checking the rear view in a while.

When I finally did, I was startled to find a guy tailgating me. Not just some guy but one of those city civil servants on patrol.

Instantly, I check my speed (10mph over. S--T!) and felt my mood instantly sink.

Just as the cop hit the red & blues to pull me over, a nut job in a bright yellow convertible PASSES us both doing 70+ in the left hand lane.

How do you ignore a cop with lights flashing IN FRONT of you?

While I deserved the ticket, He/She deserved one more and there was only one cop on the scene to hand them out.


Law and Order Teacher said...

I would like to have a dime for every time that I was told "why didn't you get that guy." Last time I looked I could only do one thing at a time. You win the lottery, you get a ticket. It all evens out. Sorry.

The MAN Fan Club said...

Thanks for the kudos.

Why is it we always seem to only remember the positive things about people we dated LONG ago? Usually the negatives outweight the positives if you break up!!!!!

KauaiMark said...

You're welcome!

The Vegas Art Guy said...

I have a story about my escape here in Vegas. I was never that lucky in the South Bay. (Saratoga)

One morning on the way to work I ran the red light making a left turn onto 95 South to get to Henderson (27 miles from home). Not kinda ran it, RAN it.

As in pulled out from dead stop knowing it was red. Oh, did I mention there was a motorcycle cop going the other way at that intersection? I look up halfway through and see it's red and then see the cop looking at me like I'm high, drunk or both.

I simply pull over and wait for the cop, who didn't even bother to hit the lights. He comes over and I simply say... "I blew it, I don't know what the hell I was thinking" and hand him my license, insurance and registration. He hands it back to me and says "Don't ever do it again"

Needless to say I didn't speed for the next week.