It’s amazing what passes for ‘good ideas’ around here
I hate state troopers. I have filed more police reports and PFAs than a girl has a right to, and I’ve been laughed out of the precinct almost every time. But go five miles above the speed limit, and suddenly they think they’ve found a use for themselves. Twirl your dicks around elsewhere, bastards. I ain’t impressed.
You know, it takes a REALLY long time to get anywhere in D.C. when you’re driving the speed limit. You might get clipped or wiped off the road or KILLED if you’re not speeding, but shit, you can’t try to live AND manage to avoid an altercation with the po-po.
Even though I live in the city, I run all my errands in the ‘burbs. So I was in the land of horrible drivers, Maryland, and headed back to D.C., going south on the 270-Spur — a road I’ve traveled THOUSANDS of times and can drive in a comatose state — and I was in the far-right lane when a cop on the far-LEFT shoulder jumps out in the middle of the fucking freeway and waves at me to come over.
(Not the first time I’ve had that happen. They have a death wish.)
Seriously, bumper to goddamned bumper traffic. I was going 65 in a 55 — exemplary behavior on my part. I was going with traffic and was careful not to floor it because I got a ticket there the last time, only going north instead.
I started to try to merge left, but that looked to be a death wish as I had someone in my blind spot.
So I kept going.
About a half-mile up the road, I saw a hole I could have pulled into, but come the fuck on, was I going to BACK UP a half-mile in the shoulder? I think not. I wasn’t gonna jam on my brakes when there were 40 cars behind me. Oh HELL no.
I could see the cop staring at me as I hightailed it away. Um, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, to my knowledge. And you can checkpoint us all you want, but telling someone to merge from the far right to the far left? A recipe for a fucking 10-car pileup.
You know, we have cameras everywhere. And if you use your radar gun to prove I’m speeding, for god’s sakes, mail me the fucking ticket — don’t make me wreck my poor little car and end up in traction so you can humiliate me roadside. You know, that’s a dangerous stretch of road, as it’s where Democracy Boulevard traffic dumps in and then the whole kit ‘n’ kaboodle merges into the Capital Beltway.
I hope to God that he was pointing at someone else, but I doubt it. But I definitely want my day in court, if so. He did grab the guy beside me, but he was a LOT closer to the shoulder than I was. The po-po was like a fucking umpire, pointing everywhere and shouting. I’d assumed there was an accident when I saw him directing traffic. By the time I actually realized that, no, he’s walking out in the middle of the highway for kicks, I was long gone.
I know they want to catch speeders, but buddy, you can’t pull over every car on 495. And pulling out every third car from any lane? Not such a bright fucking idea, either. Especially those in the right (or, SLOW) lane. Why not pull over the idiot who was killing himself to prove he could pass me by damn near clipping my front end in a grand gesture of “Look, I was just behind you and now I’ve cut you off!”?
If you’re not going to protect me, then for God’s sake, don’t piss me off. And do NOT put me in a situation in which I have to choose between jeopardizing myself and/or getting a bigger ticket for failure to comply.
Fuck you, dumbass. See you in court.