So you know the old addage: "Where's a cop when you need'em"? That describes this morning. Except they were there. Get this, fellow assertive drivers...
So I confess that I drive 5-10 miles over the speed limit. It's true. If you had the learner's permit instructors of my dad and big brother (Who's only mantra when teaching was "Don't drive like me...") you'd be an assertive driver too. With all the tricks, like...watching the light change out of your peripheral vision so you start to go before you get your green light. Or forearmed with the knowledge that county mounties won't tag you if you are at 8-10 miles over on the freeway or 5 miles over on the back streets. Or to slow down when on the freeway when you are coming around a blind section b/c that's where the fuzz will be parked with their radar guns pointed right atcha...all that jazz.
So imagine me, putzing along 94 EB on my way to work. Flying about 68 mph. Listening to the banter on the Current. In the speed lane. And someone behind me is barrelling up to my tail like a bat outta hell. I move over, like a good commuter, to let the a$$hole passhole. I look over at them and they are talking on a cellphone. I reiterate verbally my assertion that the individual is, in fact, very similar to a rectum- As they tear a$$ past me going (I'd guess) 85 mph.
That's when I see the state trooper parked by the upcoming exit ramp.
So I, like the rest of the world and traffic, slow waaaay the EFF down as did Mr.D-bag on the cell...when the county mountie pulls out (just as I pass, btw) passes me, and flips his cherries on. Behind the d-bag. Eventually pulling him over.
I wonder how he ended his conversation?
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