"Where are you in such a hurry to get son?" The cop asked. I could already tell he was going to lie to me.
"I wasn't aware I was in such a hurry, sir." I said. "I thought I kept my speed pretty close to forty-five the whole way." And, of course, I had.
"Well I was following you for about five miles there and you were going about fifteen over around the curves." My eyes bulged at the sheer bullshit of this; first, he had been behind me for less, read less than, two miles. He had turned around at a place called Six Mile Hill and had me pulled over literally in front of the four mile marker. I wanted to mention that, while I was only in calculus so far, I was pretty sure that six minus four was two, but I kept my mouth shut.
Mostly.
"Ok, if you say so." I said. I knew he didn't have a fucking thing on me though.
Yeah so the cops were out
en force tonight. I saw no less than four on the twenty-two mile stretch to my house; for a road that can go months with nary a piggy, that's a lot. After the first guy flashed his high beams at me from the side of the road I knew I'd have to be careful. His partner was, as I expected, just down the road. I breathed a sweet sigh of relief when I got past that speed trap only to tense up again when, two miles down the road, I come across another sheriff pulled over. He rips out behind me and , being a smart ass, I pull over and let him by. He wanted to read my license plate, though, so he sat behind me, like a dumbass in the middle of the road, for a little bit then pulled ahead. Eventually he dropped behind me again and pulled over someone else.
And then Six Mile Hill happened.
Ten minutes later I finishing those last four miles to my house. The bastard didn't even give me a written warning; just a casual "Slow it down" and "Have a good night."
In the words of Stephen King, man oh man.
