Another of my driving pet peeves (of which there are a lot) is people who hang out in the blind spot. Like, let’s say you’re in the center lane and there’s a car that’s starting to pass you on the left, but they’re either not sure about going that fast, or they’re *just barely* going faster than you, so it’s taking forever, whatever.

I’m driving home from work this evening, after having had a fairly crappy shift to begin with, and I’m tired as hell, and my car is really damn loud cuz they exhaust fell apart the other day or something, and so I really just want to get home, watch Friends, and then go to bed. Well, I get past Hwy 18, like, right near 164, and this car is frickin hangin out in the blind spot. Damn. It. All.

I slow down. He slows down.

I speed up. He speeds up.

Damn kids.

Well, finally, I’m thinking, ‘if this dude’s gonna be an asshole, I’ll just get off the highway at J and go home that way. Well, then this car drops back in behind me, and I look in the mirror at the headlights, and I say to myself, ‘Shit: Crown Vic?’ Great. So about two seconds later, he turns the lights on, I’m getting pulled over.

Well I was going no faster (even when I was ‘speeding up’) than 67 mph in a 65, so he can eat me on speeding. Was I swerving? I guess, what with the exhaust being AFU’ed and the car vibrating excessively, I might’ve been perceived to be swerving, but man, just give me the breathalyzer; I WANT IT.

Cop’s getting out of his car, and having been in the situation no fewer than five times before, I’m going over the script in my head: he’ll say, “Do you know why I pulled you over?” and then, this time, I get to say, “Not a goddamned clue.” But he gets up to the window, no questions even. He just says, “Havin’ a little problem with the exhaust there?”

You’re. Kidding. Me.

“Yeah, yeah I am, I, uh, I just noticed that, I had to take a ride out to LaCrosse?, and it, uh, somethin’ must’ve happened, I’ve gotta get that checked out.”
“Can I see your license there?”
“Yeah, for sure.”
“Just sit tight in the car here for me.”
Oh, you bet your ass.

I turn the car off, cuz I’m running a little low on petrol; I probably should’ve filled up on the way to work.

Then, less than two minutes after taking my license (I was assuming I would receive some written warning) Joe County Sheriff walks back up to the window, says “I’ve gotta take off here. Here’s your license back, get that checked out, OK?”

He seems in a bit of a rush all of a sudden, starts walking back, gets half a step in, leans back toward the window, “Let me pull around you first, alright?”

Yeah, definitely.

And he goes scooting down to the Hwy J exit real fast, no more lights on or anything, but is pretty snappy about making a turn and hurrying down J.

I guess while I was getting written up for my messed up exhaust system, someone, somewhere in Waukesha County, was committing an actual crime?

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