[Ron Mummert]

It's late Friday afternoon. It's been a nasty work week & I'm glad it's over. I'm cruising south from my last appointment on I-95, about 20 miles north of Baltimore. Four lanes of Friday madness, but I'm content to do 65-70 in the "slow" lane & let the 18 wheelers & Bimmers do battle for the other three lanes. I see police cruisers, unmarked & marked, just about every mile with fresh prey humbled on the shoulders. But I stay in the right lane, mentally repeating the question, "Tires or bearing?", "Tires or bearing?" Yeah, that drone is back. It's been two years. The AVS dbs gots 28K on 'em. One bearing replaced before the 10th anniversary meet. It's time to open the wallet again. I turn up the radio. Bearing/tires are overwhelmed. I get close to the split where two lanes go here, two lanes go there, & I want to go here. I move left, still at 65 mph. Unmarked cruiser passes me at 75. Yawn. I'm approaching the Harbor Tunnel. All traffic is moving at 70. What's that light display in by rearview? Red & Blues on a marked cruiser on my bumper. Well, he CAN'T be aiming my way! I'm totally innocent of anything even remotely resembling a moving violation. I haven't been pulled over in fifteen years. The state owes ME points! But he's still there. Hey, what about that Volvo that went by me at 90 a mile back? The cop's after him, I'm sure, & I SIGNAL & move one lane to the right. So does the cop. He wants me. WHY?!? Driving while ebony mica?!? So I thread my way through another lane & on to the shoulder, with the gendarme in hot pursuit. I make "OJ" look like nikfu. I turn on the hazards, pull the credentials from my wallet, while Maryland's finest stays seated, no doubt running a check on the experimental Ferrari he's run down. That's it - he thinks it's a stolen exotic. Wait 'til he sees the Suby centercaps. Now that's embarassment. "It's OK officer, heh-heh,I get pulled over all the time by cops who want a closer look".
OK, he gets out & marches forth. At least his weapon is holstered. I roll down the funny window. ROAR!!! All I hear is I-95. Somewhere in the background, "Sir, blah, blah, blah, this is a Plymouth? (Opps, wrong registration) blah, blah obscured, blah, blah, illegal, blah, blah, plates. Not allowed blah, blah, state of Maryland". Then he leaves with my credentials. I try to reconstruct his diatribe. I think he doesn't like my LIGHTLY SMOKED license plate covers. WHAT!? I've had them things there for three years, 50 thousand miles through 20 states & Canada, eh? & I've never been chastised once. NOT ONCE!!
They WERE pretty scuzzy last week, but I got the car washed, and....
He returns. "MR M., blah, blah, illegal tint, blah blah, red light cameras, blah blah, fifty-five bucks, blah, sign here. I sign. CUFF ME RIGHT HERE!!! I'M STEENKIN' GUILTY!!! "Sir, (I calmly say), "May I ask a question?" "Blah, blah, Yes". " Why would that great American institution called K-Mart, that has suffered so with all its bankruptcy problems, & now its sleazy association with that "Stewart woman", actually risk total collapse by selling me, the innocent, unsuspecting motorist whose intent is to keep his plates nice & shiny so officers of the law, such as yourself, could quickly see that I'm not a bad guy, but a good guy"? "Huh, Huh"? "Smoked covers are for show". "They can sell SHOW covers legally" "Can't drive with 'em though" "Be careful pulling back into traffic" "Good day".
Good day, indeed. I do my kindest & gentlest re-entry into the rolling zoo of speed demons. Mr. Trooper could have lassoed any one of these maniacs & netted a bigger payday. But NOOOOO!!!
I decided to do 80 the rest of the way home. I was ignored.
Have a nice weekend all.

Ron (55 bucks is 5 boxes o'wine. Oh the humanity!)