Chapter 16

A simple drive doesn’t always stay simple.

Or never speed on a highway with speed traps every thirty miles, dummy.

The trip was going very well. I stopped in Clinton for coffee and then again somewhere south of Little Rock but mostly just kept the hammer down listening to the XM jazz stations. Sometimes XM will play good stuff on bluesville or Bill Wax will have a guest and I get to enjoy whatever blues trivia they kick up. I always check into Bluesville first.

Unfortunately along about 11 pm, a black Texas Highway Patrol officer somewhere around Mt. Vernon decided I was speeding and wanted to have a chat with me. I was in the process of trying to get around a string of 18 wheelers about two miles long. I do not like to drive my little HHR with tiny boat trailer in the midst of all that. Guess who he picked out as the tourist. Yup, I was the one. Radar said I was speeding. I was no doubt but so was every other vehicle on the highway with me. Oh well, it had been a long time since they nailed me so I guess it was my turn to be the revenue turkey.

The policeman asked me to get out of the car and to come to the rear of the vehicle. OK, but I thought that is unusual they normally want to come up and talk to you from right behind your ear. That roadside manner always makes me think I am about to be shot in the back of the head. I like for cops to keep their hands where I can see them. I don’t trust them. I’m sorry I’ve just heard way to many stories. God, those guys make me nervous.

I guess I fit some sort of bad guy profile because they all seem to come on with a hell of a lot of attitude. I’ve really never understood that part of who they are or why they think they have to act like Billy Bad Ass. Maybe it’s in the training but I think it’s more who they want to be, not who they are. I’ve never seen acting to be necessary. This guy could have used a little lesson in manners, but I guess someone told him nobody would respect him if he acted like a nice guy. Who knows why people do what they do. I sure as hell can’t figure it out.

Anyway, the policeman asks what was my reason for speeding. I asked him to repeat that as I was unaware it had been proven that I was actually speeding. He said, “well you were”. I said, “really how fast was I going” ? He says you were doing 77 in a 65 zone. I think to myself aw crap that is exactly what I was doing. But I had mistakenly thought the speed limit was 70. Apparently they lower the limit by 5 mph after dark. Uh oh, this could be expensive.

I hung my head with shame. Not really. I was ticked off at myself for getting caught when I had seen cop cars between every town since the Texas line. Obviously they were having a big fund raising night and the cats had just bagged another sucker trying to get himself home at a decent hour. They knew who they wanted. They knew who would pay the fine and they knew who would not cause harm to them. That is the target audience of the Texas State trooper. Let’s don’t forget that Interstate Highway 30 is the main connection to I-35 from the Mexican border.

My pal, Harris in Arkadelphia, had told me years ago that this stretch of road gets the heaviest use by drug traffickers on their way to northern cities. I just hung my head and kept my mouth shut. Drugs flow north, tourists return home by going south. Methinks they are chasing the wrong side of the highway. While he writes the ticket I can’t help but thinking what a waste of resources in our supposed war on drugs. They have an army of cops chasing revenue by going after speeding business people and tourists instead of trying to do something to reduce the drug scourge of the nation. I wondered what his ticket quota was for that evening and if he had already made it and was on bonus time. The guy gave me a lecture about speeding and all I could think about is just give me the damned ticket and shut the hell up you pious hypocrite.

The rest of the ride to Dallas went well enough. I toned the autopilot down to 73 and hauled it home. The reason I was on 73 is that there was a speed trap set up about every 40 miles and a Texas Ranger had told me that under 74 and no one would ever pull you over. I guess I felt like taking him up on it. I still had a long way to go and it was getting late.