Abiding by those premonitions

By John Howell
Posted 12/6/16

Have you had the feeling you're about to get stopped by a cop? It happened to me Friday on Route 88 in upstate New York. The four-lane highway cuts across rolling hills of farm and woodlands. It's a wide highway with a divider of fields dotted with

This item is available in full to subscribers.

Please log in to continue

E-mail
Password
Log in

Abiding by those premonitions

Posted

Have you had the feeling you’re about to get stopped by a cop?

It happened to me Friday on Route 88 in upstate New York. The four-lane highway cuts across rolling hills of farm and woodlands. It’s a wide highway with a divider of fields dotted with bushes that offer great cover for the local sheriff to park and wait for those of us who see no reason to adhere to the speed limit in such wide-open spaces.

I know the road and their hiding spots, but the sheriff wasn’t to be seen Friday. Rather, I found myself in the annoying position of following two cars that were barely traveling the posted 65 MPH limit. They were side by each making passing impossible for seemingly an interminable period. Soon more cars joined me in the traveling bottleneck. I stuck to the passing lane, figuring at the next hill, the driver in front of me would speed up and I’d get my chance. A black SUV sat on my tail anxious to grab the same opportunity.

I thought of flashing my lights and then questioned in the bigger picture what difference would it make? Maybe I could have gotten back to Rhode Island 30 seconds sooner, although that seemed unlikely given all the traffic signals between there and here. I could just as easily burn the time getting through Hoxsie Four Corners. So, I just kept with the flow.

The guys behind me were getting antsy. Now there were three cars behind me, which by all definitions of weekday traffic on Route 88 near Duanesburg, NY qualifies as major traffic congestion. A couple of drivers switched lanes expecting to pass on the right, but the drivers ahead, either delighting in their power to control the highway or simply oblivious to what they were doing, plodded along at 65.

The irony is that I’ve traveled that section of road so long that I remember when the speed limit was 55 and doing 65 was flirting with a speeding ticket. Thankfully the 55 limit went by the wayside. Now 65 was feeling like the old 55.

Carol sensed my building frustration. Ollie was in the back seat content with watching the passing countryside. There were no deer, cows or horses so for once he was just watching, not howling. Carol didn’t say anything and the thought crossed my mind that is probably what it would feel like being in a self-driving car. We’d all be doing the same speed, knotted up into traveling groups. Would we be looking at one another, for after all there would be little point in concentrating on the road ahead? Might we even be waving to one another, lowering windows and engaging in conversation?

To get the feel, I flicked on cruise control and settled in, although that’s a long way from the self-driving car.

I focused on the driver ahead and finally I saw him look up at the rear view mirror.

“He’s going to speed up and move over,” I thought. It was like a telepathic message. He was following my very command. I depressed the accelerator. The SUV did the same. We both passed the car in the right lane.

“Now, pull over and let me pass you,” I thought. He did. This was more like it. I was doing 80. The SUV stayed with me. The logjam had been broken. Maintaining speed, I pulled into the right lane. The SUV followed and that’s when I thought, that’s a cop. I eased back to 75 and sure enough the guy behind me did the same.

“It’s a cop,” I said to Carol. She was surprised. There was no identification on the SUV, yet I was certain that at any moment I would see flashing red and blue lights.

I was right, but it didn’t happen the way I expected.

In the moment the SUV pulled behind me a beat up Toyota passed us both. The SUV gave chase. The flashing lights lit up. The Toyota pulled on to the shoulder. We breezed past.

“How did you know? Carol asked.

I’ve had the feeling before, only this time I paid attention.

Comments

3 comments on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here

  • richardcorrente

    Dear John,

    Good tip!

    Merry Christmas to you, Carol and Ollie.

    Rick Corrente

    Thursday, December 8, 2016 Report this

  • RISchadenfreude

    The "magic number" is ten MPH over the speed limit- most cops won't waste their time unless you're going "ten over" or faster, except on neighborhood streets.

    "Side by each"...I wonder if the writer was raised in Woonsocket?

    Friday, December 9, 2016 Report this

  • mthompsondc

    Back seat? Presume this wasn't your Porsche, John.

    Saturday, December 10, 2016 Report this