Actually, scratch that title. Speeding tickets are not fun. I’ve had this theory for years and years, but until yesterday, I wasn’t able to actually see it at work. Until yesterday, I’d never gotten a speeding ticket.
But all good streaks must come to an end, I suppose. The sad thing is that, in this case, I wasn’t even aware I was speeding. I was on my way to Augusta to take Tomas to an orthodontist appointment. It’s a road I’ve traveled many times. Often enough that I feel like I instinctively know what speed I can go on each part of the road. It’s 55 for most of the first while, with a few 40s and 45s thrown in now and then at intersections.
I’d just passed one such intersection. I’d gone down to 45 or so through it, and then I was on my way back up to 50-55 once I was past it. I wasn’t in a rush. Just driving. So when I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the flashing lights, I figured the cop must have been after someone else. I pulled over to let him pass by, but he slowed down behind me. I was still trying to figure out why. Was my registration out of date? Had I cut someone off and not realized it?
He asked me how fast I was driving. I hadn’t really been watching my speedometer, but I guessed 45-50. He told me it had been 55, and I was in a 40mph zone. I wondered (in my head) when exactly he’d clocked me, and where I’d been. Not that I protested. I hadn’t been looking actively, and he said he had, so there you go.
I was hoping for a warning. That could happen, right? But I got a ticket instead. On my way back from Augusta, I paid attention to the stretch of road I’d been on, and I realized my problem. The speed limit doesn’t go back up to 55 for about a half mile after the intersection. Whoops.
Too bad the tuition was $137.
Here’s hoping it’s another couple of decades before I make that mistake again.