CAR-MA AND COPS – Marilyn Armstrong

It was a lovely crisp Saturday morning. I was heading north out of New York to visit Garry in Boston. I don’t remember which car I was driving. Probably my turquoise VW Rabbit, my personal pocket rocket.

I am not a slow driver, though I try to be a careful one. If I see a wide open road and I figure I’m not going to get a ticket, I’ve been known to put the pedal to the metal, perhaps a tad faster than the legal limit. Which is why I was surprised, as I drove along in the left lane of the limited access highway, to be passed on the right and cut off — leaving just millimeters to spare — by a vehicle going so fast he nearly sucked the doors off my car.

Icy rocks

I was a bit shaken, especially since he had no reason to cut me off at all. The road was empty. He had plenty of room, so he was just being an asshole. I hadn’t even seen him coming.

“Go tiger,” I murmured, looking at my speedometer. I was going a smidge over 80 MPH, so how fast was he going? He passed me as if I were standing still.

“People like him,” I muttered, “Give all of us a bad name.”

I continued on my way, made merrier by the music on my radio … until I saw flashing lights ahead. I slowed. Then I slowed more until I was crawling along.

Blue lights were flashing everywhere. This was no normal speeding ticket stop. It was not one or two police cars. There must have been a hundred or more squad cars, motorcycles, and a couple of vans.

It was a cop convention!

On the road to Skowhegan

Open road

My speeder had plunged into the heart of a law enforcement convoy!

The fellow, a young man of unimpressive demeanor, was standing on the shoulder of the road, hands in the air looking terrified. Officers stood near him. They had bagged a good one and were clearly having fun as only a convention of cops can.

On the way to Chestnut Hill

I was happy.

Justice, so rarely served, was coming to one who thoroughly deserved it. I doubted he would ever speed again. I couldn’t tell if he had wet his pants, but I could hope.

I gave a thumbs up to the cops standing around writing as many tickets as they could think of.  I still wonder how many he got. In returns, a number of cops gave a thumbs up.

I was laughing the entire rest of the trip to Boston.

23 thoughts on “CAR-MA AND COPS – Marilyn Armstrong

  1. I got completely stalled out in your first paragraph when you wrote “pocket rocket”. (Did I ever tell you one of several things I am certified as is sex therapist?)
    If this still isn’t clicking, google pocket rocket…

    Took me a minute to shake this new understanding of Marilyn…………😋


    • She probably meant “Road Rocket?” I drove that thing when she first got it and it was an amazing little car. It WAS smaller than anything she had ever owned but, unlikely as it may seem, it would only fit in one’s pocket in one’s imagination. We had plenty of that back then too.


  2. I saw something like this once. Back in the mid to late 80s, when it was 55 mph, my brother was following a Porsche, about a half mile back, at a little under 80. A Caddie ripped by and the Porsche literally smoked its tires as it accelerated away to catch it. He was in a Porsche 928, the fastest car on the road! How DARE a Cadillac pass him! In the prairie you can see for miles – they disappeared over the horizon in seconds, moving far faster than I’ve seen a car move, including cars I’ve seen at the race track. We slowed down to the speed limit. A half an hour later we fond them, the drivers on the ground at gun point, the seats in the open ripped to shreds, the cars being disassembled one piece at a time, the metal being ripped off of them in a way the ensured the metal could never be put back on. I doubt if the Porsche was carrying drugs (The Caddie most likely was) but as the driver saw his car’s value plummet to zero I’m sure he knew he’d never do 160+ in Indiana again!


      • How many times I’ve been driving when some jerk does something really stupid and appears to get away with it. It’s the one time you wish the authorities were on hand to dish out justice to a true offender. There is nothing like the feeling when some asshole whizzes buy you at ungodly speeds only to be seen stopped on the side of the road, a few miles later, held in check by one or more flashing-lighted vehicles. That being said I have to admit I’m not totally innocent here.

        I was on my way back from Los Angeles, and Like my friend Marilyn, I didn’t mind traveling at a swift pace from time to time, but never when the traffic conditions prevented that option. This particular day there was little, if any, traffic and my “pedal” also touched the “metal.” My 1984 VW Jetta easily reached 95+mph and stayed there for over 100mi of the trip.., that is until a CHP car pulled me over, just short of the Arizona border. I was surprised, but being mostly honest I asked the patrolman where he came from as I had my radar detector on. He informed me that “we don’t use radar we prefer to chase you down.” Then I was curious and asked how fast I was going? He looked at me with a smile and said, “I have no idea as I had to go much faster to catch you” So, I said, you have no clocked speed for me? “that’s right, So I’m going to issue a citation for exceeding the 55mph limit.., lets say you were doing about 65mph.”

        Back then 55mph was a snail’s pace, and many of us cowboys felt it was unnecessary here in the west. But it was a nationwide effort to conserve energy. Of course, no credit was given to those of us who drove more efficient cars.


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