There’s no doubt about it. I broke NYS traffic law section 1180 subsection D. Per the letter of the law, my 10mph over the speed limit makes me the D.B. Cooper of the roadway, a turbo-charged Billy the Kid. Perhaps I deserve punishment; the pillory maybe, or hung, drawn, and quartered… but isn’t it bad enough I had to travel to Buffalo? Isn’t the unbearable monotony of route 5 sufficient punishment?
Having embraced my inner villain, and preparing to travel to ‘the town that god forgot’ somewhere in between Rochester and Buffalo to throw myself on the mercy of the court*, I’m left with some nagging questions: If lowering the general rate of speed is the goal of these towns, why hide a single policeman to tag motorists one at a time? If I were in charge of truly reducing speed, I’d place officers in plane sight to make the message clear. If there’s a battle to reduce speed, why not monitor the mean speed to judge the effectiveness of your actions, as opposed to giving officers a standing ticket quota? Doesn’t this indicate that you expect [hope?] motorists will never change their behavior? I’ve heard it called ‘random transportation tax’ as it’s a revenue generator where most are guilty, a few will be caught.
My name is Waverly, and I’m a traffic criminal. Do I even need to solicit opinions? I presume the SDMB crew has plenty to offer.
*actually I’m hoping that since this was the rate of traffic flow and I was denied the radar gun’s serial number the charge will be reduced
Dude, it’s all about ticket revenue. These podunk towns really could care less about whether you slow down or not. All that matters to them is that they can nail you for a couple hundred bucks so they can afford to pay someone to pick up the dog crap in the local park. That’s about all there is to it.
Don’t feel like a criminal. Go back there and show up for the court proceeding and use your obvious intelligence to make everyone in the courtroom (save for yourself) look like a giant ass.
After you follow THespos’ interesting advice be reassured by the fact that I will not spit on you as I pass you, bound in the stocks, in front of the courthouse.
I am a bastard. I’m going to speed all the way into their little town just to establish my bastarditude. I also have researched just enough NYS law to look like a real arrogant asshole when I play lawyer later tonight. Expect me to be held in contempt of court; my next post will be from the county lockup where I’ll be forced to make use of the name ‘sugar plum fairy’ from the ‘prison name’ thread.
Well, I drive all they way out to the courthouse, and get in line to be fleeced with all the mother rapers, father stabbers, and FATHER RAPERS western NY has to offer (along with a few other poor sods like myself). I dazzle the prosecutor with my audacity and near-knowledge of law, so does he vow to crush my testicles in court? No. He knows just how to get to me: “We can’t try it tonight, we’ll have to reschedule, and you’ll have to come back out one or two more times.” sigh So he offers me parking tickets. Parking tickets?! I thought the whole problem was that I was moving. I was anti-parked. The degree of my un-parkingness was excessive.
I still have to wait for the judge to set a fine, so I take seat. In the interest of science, I do a quick study. Every woman in this town is mildly attractive, smokes, and has crimped red hair. Maybe the entire town consists of one family, what do I know, but I’m having a freaky Stepford Strumpets moment. Then in walks this sausage cased in a judicial robe. An overweight Kyle MacLachlan look-alike with a fake tan sends me on my way with $200 in traffic tickets. Where on earth does it cost $200 to park? If I crash the gates and park on the White House lawn, they are only going to shoot me. Sheesh.
