The Racket

So there I was, minding my own business, traveling up I-95 on a beautiful sunny day this past spring. I was traveling with the flow of traffic, and had just pulled into the left lane to pass a vehicle that was not, when I saw the lights come on behind me. I had just entered the police-state that is Virginia, at mile marker 29, to be exact. I pulled immediately back to the right, so that the trooper could pursue his offender. Well, don't ya know, that would be me.

For those of you who follow the ramblings in this magazine, you'll know that I am no stranger to the traffic courts. Yes, I do tend to move at a faster pace than the rest of the world, and certainly will take my 'fan mail' when deserving. This, however, wasn't one of those times.

There I sat, after having given the stoic trooper my papers and assorted police endorsements, waiting for the inevitable. While I waited, I thought about all the miles I had traveled on this road over the past few days and how many completely idiotic drivers and maneuvers I had seen. There were the Ricky Road Racers, who were easily going at least 100 mph, cutting through traffic. There were the cell-phone talking, fast-food eating, makeup-applying oblivious drivers who would just as soon cut you off as text you. And of course the marvelous trailer-pulling, RV-driving Mr. Magoos who didn't really mean to come into your lane while you were right next to them, they just couldn't see you.

Having made my way safely through all these obstacles, with only a couple of states to go before passing Go and collecting $200 (or at least a nice cold beverage at Monkey with a Gun), this was my reward for being a conscientious rider. Why should I bother? Why not just drive like all the other ignoramuses and nincompoops on the roads today?

Why? Because that's what I do for a living. I travel around the world, and try not to hurt myself or anyone else. I care about the well-being of other travellers, and even if they can't take care of themselves, at least I won't be the cause of their undoing. But could I explain this to the man sitting in the car behind me, writing what was probably one of dozens of speeding tickets he'd hand out that day? Of course not. He was doing his job, right or wrong, gathering monies for the coffer.

After a few minutes, back he came, still very stoic, and handed me my paperwork, along with a little more. He went through the whole routine, which I'm sure he had memorized from day one of his patrol. I took it all, and unlike the other times I had been in this situation, I didn't respond with the automatic, nervous 'Thank you', but instead gave him a really mean look and headed off, at pretty much the same pace he had stopped me.

So, there I am, not a week later, heading out to get the mail, and as I'm walking back to the house, shuffling through the various envelopes of mostly junk mail, I see not one, but two envelopes, addressed to me, from the state of Virginia. I look at the return address and see that they are both from Virginia attorneys. Opening the first, I read Attorney A's form letter, stating that they would like to represent me and save my fine driving status, rescuing me from the doom and gloom that will come from the Virginia courts. The second letter was pretty much the exact same thing, with some other adjectives thrown in for good measure.

So what, when someone gets a violation they sell the list? This was as bad as the sleazy ambulance-chasing lawyers or car salesmen you see on late-night television. I certainly get enough regular junk mail, email spam and telemarketing phone calls without having to now deal with solicitations from solicitors.

But it was like that episode of Seinfeld with the painting of Kramer; I was appalled but intrigued. So the next day I emailed one of the firms, explaining the situation, and asked what they thought could be done. I wanted to know if Virginia points, if awarded, would be reciprocal to New Jersey, to which they said yes. Having just obtained a clean bill of health from the Department of Motor Vehicles, I was anxious to keep it that way. What they offered was to represent me, without my having to come to court, and assured me that the charge would be dismissed and amended to a non-moving violation, thus sidestepping any points that may be involved. When I asked if they could be sure of this, they seemed very confident, saying that they had a good working relationship with the judge, although, of course, it was ultimately his decision.

What's my point of this whole jabber? Am I just blowing off steam - probably. Have I put these same sentiments to words before - absolutely. Does this sound like the same train of thought from last month's On The Mark - sort of. But perhaps if people like Mark, me and whoever else speaks up against the lack of judgement related to enforcing the laws of the road, the powers that be will take note and have the LEOs, as Mark labeled them, turn their radar guns off and start using their eyes. This would trickle down to fewer aggressive and unsafe drivers on the road, and less work for the list-buying law firms who would send their litter to our mailboxes.

And yes, I will be staying out of the state of Virginia for as long as I can; at least until the Chincoteague Oyster Festival.