I believe I have mentioned before that I like to drive fast. Usually about 10 mph over the speed limit.
So a few days ago, when I was driving the midlife crisis mobile from Phoenix to Flagstaff to pick up LegalMist's daughter for the holiday break, I was very sad when, about 20 miles north of Phoenix, I came up behind a Highway Patrol officer and had to slow down and drive behind him, going “only” 75 mph (which was the speed limit).
About 70 slow and frustrating miles later, I was still driving right at the speed limit behind the Highway Patrol car, when a gray car came zooming up behind me and passed me on the right and was about to pass the car in front of me, too, when he suddenly realized that it was a Highway Patrol car, so he slowed down and got in line behind the cop but in front of me.
About 30 slow and frustrating miles after that, Gray Car Guy just couldn’t take the “slow” pace any longer. He passed the cop, slowly, on the right. Then sped up a little. No lights. Sped up a little more. Still no lights. But the cop was maintaining the same pace as Gray Car Guy. And I was going slightly slower, but not a lot, staying behind the Highway Patrol car and watching to see how this played out. Gray Car Guy sped up a bit more (probably doing about 85-90 by now), and the cop turned on his lights and pulled him over.
I felt a little bad for Gray Car Guy--but if I’m honest, I was really glad, because I got to be a speed demon the rest of the way to Flagstaff, secure in the knowledge that the Highway Patrol car was busy giving Gray Car Guy a speeding ticket.