Posted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 5:48 pm
About a hundred or so years ago I got pulled over by a well known cowboy cop in a little town near a drag strip, where they had a reputation for busting kids returning from the races and incarcerating them almost immediately.
I was driving a 1958 Plymouth wagon with rusted out fenders and rocker panels, a real "sleeper."
The officer insisted in immediate arraignment, which meant if the Justice of the Peace convicted me I would spend the night in jail andwind up paying more than just a traffic fine. Remember that this burg had a reputation for this kind of stuff.
I was returning from the races and stopped at the local diner with friends to talk about the day's racing, and decided to run up to the market to get some cigarettes.
In the 1/8 of a mile from the diner to the stoplight, the cop claimed he had clocked me at upwards of 70MPH and "escorted" me over to see the judge. I pointed out my car in front of the judge's house and told him that that car couldn't possibly have made 70 downhill with a tail wind, and he actually agreed with me and dismissed the charge, ticking off the cop pretty bad.
The rest of the story?
I had won all my races that day, and as bad as the body looked the engine and drivetrain were quite capable of doing what the cop said I did, and probably had.
I was one of the few people ever to beat a ticket in that town, and I was guilty as charged.
I was driving a 1958 Plymouth wagon with rusted out fenders and rocker panels, a real "sleeper."
The officer insisted in immediate arraignment, which meant if the Justice of the Peace convicted me I would spend the night in jail andwind up paying more than just a traffic fine. Remember that this burg had a reputation for this kind of stuff.
I was returning from the races and stopped at the local diner with friends to talk about the day's racing, and decided to run up to the market to get some cigarettes.
In the 1/8 of a mile from the diner to the stoplight, the cop claimed he had clocked me at upwards of 70MPH and "escorted" me over to see the judge. I pointed out my car in front of the judge's house and told him that that car couldn't possibly have made 70 downhill with a tail wind, and he actually agreed with me and dismissed the charge, ticking off the cop pretty bad.
The rest of the story?
I had won all my races that day, and as bad as the body looked the engine and drivetrain were quite capable of doing what the cop said I did, and probably had.
I was one of the few people ever to beat a ticket in that town, and I was guilty as charged.