In our neighborhood, we’ve got a couple of streets that have longish stretches on a steep grade that make it difficult to keep cars at a reasonable speed.
Now and again, our neighbors take it upon themselves to insist that the police set up a trap and hand out tickets.
Around one of these times, as I was going down the hill, I saw some traffic near the bottom and slowed down. As I got closer, I realized that the “traffic” was a cop. As I passed his car, his lights went on, signaling his desire for a conversation.
He asked me if I knew how fast I’d been going. Luckily, I didn’t actually check my spedometer until after I’d slowed down. I could honestly say that I wasn’t sure.
I already had my license out but the registration was in the glove box. I told the officer this. He seemed puzzled about this then said “Sure, go ahead.”
I knew that I didn’t have a gun in there but I don’t know how he knew. I didn’t see any point in making an issue of this.
He walked back to his car and did whatever it is that cops do when they sit in their cars.
When he came back, he returned my stuff and said that he measured me doing XXX miles per hour. I didn’t have a good response so I didn’t say anything.
Then he said that if I’d been going faster than XXX plus 3 he’d’ve given me a ticket. Instead, he just gave me a warning and sent me on my way.
I’d been vaguely aware that there was a speed trap in the neighborhood. Pam had mentioned that someone had been stopped a couple of days before.
This person, let’s call him Mr. Shouty, was less than serene about the interaction. Apparently, he felt that his time was being wasted, that he didn’t appreciate having to be on display in front of his neighbors, and that the police should be spending their time looking into real crimes.
This is based on what people down the street heard Mr. Shouty yelling from inside his car.
It wasn’t reported whether the officer also let Mr. Shouty off with a warning.
I guess we all have different ways of dealing with people who carry deadly weapons.