Police Cruiser

When I pull out of my work parking lot, I’m on a busy commercial-district highway for about two miles. Then I connect onto a rural highway for ten more miles, which deposits me in the suburbs where I take sidestreets to get home. Both these highways are high-traffic, high-volume, three-lane affairs. The first, which has stop lights every mile or so, has a humongous police presence. The latter road, with no stop-and-go traffic, is a literal speedway, where vehicles routinely zoom by at 85 mph. I’ve yet to see a police cruiser on this road.

Anyway, there’s a bit of traffic as I pull onto the highway, and I see flashing bubble-gum lights up ahead. A common sight, someone pulled over getting ticketed. But the flow quickly resumes as we pass, and a few seconds later the cop is next to me in the slow lane (I’m in the middle lane doing under the speed limit, because congestion won’t let me go any faster).

It’s a crazy Mad Max muscle-car this officer is cruising in. Battle-ship grey, it looks like a cross between a classic Mustang and something from the year 2045. It’s a car Vin Diesel would drive (I guess; I only have a fraction of the testosterone that guy has.) There are so many antennae sticking out of the trunk it looks like it’s a mobile NSA. The tires are fat, black, and chrome piping curls out from the undercarriage like fossilized vapors of a sleeping dragon.

He passes me and I take the opportunity to slide right in behind him, figuring no one will try to cut me off as my exit is approaching on the right. But, no, we hit another stop light. Examining the vehicle in front of me further, I note that the license plate is inconspicuous. No “MG” prefix to tip off wary drivers.

Then an SUV whizzes by us on the right, right on the shoulder! Holy Cow! This guy is carelessly driving right in front of a cop and he doesn’t know it! Immediately the cop’s head jerks to the right, and a second after the hell-on-wheels pulls out behind the runaway SUV. The rear windshield lights up like a pinball machine as the tires squeal and the engine growls loud enough I can hear it over the music playing in my car. Though the SUV is moving fast and turning onto an off-ramp, the cruiser is moving faster, and is on him like glue.

The light turns green and our group of cars slowly advance, each driver craning his neck to the right as we pass the off-ramp, but no flashing lights are to be seen. Did the jerk in the SUV decide to outrun Johnny Law? Or is he too oblivious to think it’s him that the cop wants to pull over, so he keeps driving out of sight? Oh well. I’ll never know.

I never speed or do anything aggressive or even just plain assertive while driving on this strip of highway outside my work. The police, every day, morning and evening. Like shooting flies in a barrel, reckless drivers drop like fish.