I should collect these, apparently.
This one received for flagrantly exceeding the posted 70 mph speed limit on the interstate by a breakneck… 5 mph.
The patrolman was extremely kind (this is neither here nor there, but he was the only black person I’ve met so far in the state) and asked if I knew the speed limits was 70. I did, but thought I was going only 72 or 73. Well, he had clocked me at 75. I apologized.
He detected my lack of Texan twang and asked where I was going to.
“Perryton.” (He was surprised.) Where was I coming from?
“Garden City.” (He was more surprised.)
What was I doing?
“Collecting interviews for some research I’m doing.” (He stopped asking questions at this point. I’m can’t imagine why.)
He was going to have to give me a warning. Truthfully, I think he spotted my Virginia plates and they, along with my northward direction, gave him enough reason to suspect that I might be using an out-of-state vehicle to transport contraband or people across the border, which is an issue around here. I wish he’d stuck around long enough before running my license for me to tell him the full story.
Let me tell you, you’d be well advised not to try getting away with anything in these parts. You won’t.
