this memorial day in nc i should have by all rights gotten a ticket for at least 95 in a 70 zone, this is how it went...
I pulled onto interstate in my dd a 88' LTD and pushed it up to 79 in a 70, cause its usually ok in nc. im cruising in the fast lane when a pack of fast movers came up behind me. their order was this, 1, an 80's dodge van, 2 a pristine yellow ZR1, 3, an altima, and 4&5 some pretty nondescript sedans. the first three cars blew past me in the outside lane and i said to myself thats a quick way to get home so i sped up to about 95-100 to continue in the middle of the pack. we cruised like this for about 5 min till the #4 car behind me decided i still wasn't going fast enough and passed me as well. (he was probably doing 105) the #5 car didnt draw too much attention at first when he closed in behind me as it was about an 8 year old malibu. (this was a bad mistake) about 10 min later im starting to get a little P.O.'ed as this little white malibu was so close behind me i couldnt see his front bumper. so i took a good look at him in the mirror and thought to myself, what kind of malibu has a roll bar in it? then of course i saw the plexiglass partition, hidden lights, and angry cop face staring at me. lol i look down and realize im going at least 95. (speedo only goes to 85 so its just a guess) did i mention my tags were out of date?:nono: i just knew he was gonna pull me so i said, there is no time like the present and pulled into the outside lane knowing if he followed me over it was game time. but... he just sped up and proceeded to ride the #4 cars bumper like he had mine. i had psyched myself up for the ticket and honestly was a little ill that i just wasn't worth his time so i sped back up to see what was going to happen. (great idea right?) i followed him a discrete distance well into the next county watching him move up in the pack. the very moment he got close behind the ZR1 the lights came on.
I thank god i wasn't in my yellow cobra, and i also thank the officer who obviously shares my preference in yellow sports cars!
thought y'all might enjoy this.
I pulled onto interstate in my dd a 88' LTD and pushed it up to 79 in a 70, cause its usually ok in nc. im cruising in the fast lane when a pack of fast movers came up behind me. their order was this, 1, an 80's dodge van, 2 a pristine yellow ZR1, 3, an altima, and 4&5 some pretty nondescript sedans. the first three cars blew past me in the outside lane and i said to myself thats a quick way to get home so i sped up to about 95-100 to continue in the middle of the pack. we cruised like this for about 5 min till the #4 car behind me decided i still wasn't going fast enough and passed me as well. (he was probably doing 105) the #5 car didnt draw too much attention at first when he closed in behind me as it was about an 8 year old malibu. (this was a bad mistake) about 10 min later im starting to get a little P.O.'ed as this little white malibu was so close behind me i couldnt see his front bumper. so i took a good look at him in the mirror and thought to myself, what kind of malibu has a roll bar in it? then of course i saw the plexiglass partition, hidden lights, and angry cop face staring at me. lol i look down and realize im going at least 95. (speedo only goes to 85 so its just a guess) did i mention my tags were out of date?:nono: i just knew he was gonna pull me so i said, there is no time like the present and pulled into the outside lane knowing if he followed me over it was game time. but... he just sped up and proceeded to ride the #4 cars bumper like he had mine. i had psyched myself up for the ticket and honestly was a little ill that i just wasn't worth his time so i sped back up to see what was going to happen. (great idea right?) i followed him a discrete distance well into the next county watching him move up in the pack. the very moment he got close behind the ZR1 the lights came on.
I thank god i wasn't in my yellow cobra, and i also thank the officer who obviously shares my preference in yellow sports cars!
thought y'all might enjoy this.
