I don't really get stopped that often, because I don't really drive all that often. Yes, I drive every day, but I don't go cruising quite as often as I used to when I was in high school, because more often than not I am in a lab in the building of my current employer. I do manage, on occasion, to exceed the speed limit, or, in the old days, do even sillier things So here is a rundown...

We know them, really

One night, my high school friends Peter and Jerry and I were driving around in my 1970 Bug, with nothing particularly interesting going on. One of them spotted someone in a car that they wanted to see, and said something like "Hey, follow that car!" It turned to be one or two girls that were from our high school, but none of us knew that immediately. After we followed them around for a little while, they drove into a parking lot and stopped near a pair of police cars.

That was a good clue to depart, so we left the parking lot and crossed over into another parking lot, in an attempt to look innocent. Well, they were on to us, because no sooner did I shut off the engine of the car did some red and blue lights appear right behind us, along with a really bright spot light and some blinking headlights. "Stay in the car!" came blaring over the PA, and we found ourselves being questioned by Phoenix's finest.

It turns out we did know the people in the car, though only vaguely, so it was all a silly mess. But, it was rather humorous to be stopped for something so silly. Good practice, too.

No Left Turn!

The summer between my sophomore and junior years in college, I was home in AZ taking some summer classes at Arizona State, which was something like 20 miles drive from my parents' house. I was not all that familiar with the Tempe area, and I was particularly unfamiliar with the lights there.

They had this short left turn light that I missed, but not before ending up in the intersection with a jeep-like vehicle RIGHT behind me. I had nothing to do but make the turn, which was observed quite clearly by a motorcycle officer. He stopped my in a parking lot on campus a few blocks away and was not at all interested in any tales of whoa. I did get to attend traffic school in Arizona for that one, and it turned out to be pretty funny, largely because for the first time I got to see just the sorts of people I was on the road with.

I was slowing down to get on the freeway...

One night I was out with some friends at Luke Air Force Base near Goodyear, AZ. A fine city, with fine law enforcement officers. At least one, anyway. It seems that I had to gate one of the young ladies in the car home before some critical hour, and top speed was in order to do it. I was probably going around 90 miles per hour on Litchfield Road, when I found myself upon the freeway onramp, which was perpendicular to the road I was on. I began to slow, and at about 80 I noticed a car pull a really fast U-turn behind me, which immediately made me feel uncomfortable.

The lights didn't help. I stopped immediatly, just a few yards from the left turn onto I-10 that would have been my salvation. I was informed that I was far-exceeding the legal speed limit for people on Litchfield Road, and that I could be arrested for "Exhibitionist Speed" if I didn't watch my step. I was gracious, and took my ticket.

Several weeks later, since I was not going to be allowed to just pay this one, I had to go to the Goodyear Municipal Court House, which held a courtroom that would easily fit into my cube at work. The court secretary in the waiting room thought I was nice, which turned out to be a good thing.

The judge began giving me an outstanding lecture about reckless driving and the dangers of such speeds, and I was most attentive, to be sure. He gave me a chance to ask for traffic school before he denied me severely, saying something about me needing to learn something that I wouldn't find in traffic school. I expected the worst, and had to choke back the tears as he handed down my sentence. $25 fine, 16 hours in the Goodyear Emergency Room.

I swept the floors, picked up some band-aid wrappers, and watched about 15 hours of television, and the secretary never did get around to sending the information into the DMV, so my insurance rates were unaffected.

Um, 75?

I was headed home from work one evening, going from Los Gatos to Sunnyvale, in Northern California. It was probably about 8pm or so, which means the carpool lanes had turned back into regular lanes and almost all of the rush hour traffic had subsided. I was listening to the radio, a friday evening, cruising along WITH TRAFFIC (all 4 cars worth) in the number 1 lane, when at some point I decided to check my rear-view mirror.

Had I thought about it, I probably could have slammed on my breaks and come out ahead from the law suit that would have no-doubt followed, but instead I took no advantage of the inches of distance between rear bumber and CHiPs cruiser that filled my mirrors. I sheepishly edged into the middle lane, and found that this officer was indeed going to be joining me for a chat at the side of the road.

Once stopped, he had to negotiate some foliage on the right side of my car. He asked me if I knew the speed limit of the section of road on which I was traveling, and I said, without a blink, that it was 75 mph. He informed me that I was wrong. I told him that I usually drove on I-280, and he informed me that it wasn't 75 there either. Worth a try, perhaps. Perhaps not.

I got a ticket for about $125, plus the cost to go to traffic school. That particular visit to school was just plain silly, and I found myself almost staying awake through the presentation. The best part was that when I got the ticket, the officer told me that staying out of the number 1 lane would help me to not get caught. Essentially, I was in his favorite lane, so I got the ticket. That one really ticked me off.