I fought the law.....

Drove to the desert today, drove a 370 mile round trip that took in Roslyn and PotHoles reservoir (pics in the can, go see Big Chief Running Mouth's blog for the new fangled digital goblinry) as we drove east of Seattle

The change of scenery from huge trees and greenery to dry scrubland took less than 20 miles, and apart from some stunning lake views it was a bit dull. It's humbling to see how a meagre 4 hours straight driving made a very minor dent inland, and how massive this country is.

Oh yeah, the law thing. Well, Vlad was making a few road movies with his camera so I wanted to get to the bridge bit before it got too dark, and put my foot down somewhat. The Mustang became unstable at 100 mph, almost leaping off the road in fear and providing a sickening body roll that had me sea sick. So, I'm thinking, best keep it to 85-ish. Not much farther on down the road, I came across yet another ex-colonial lumbering along in the middle lane overtaking no-one, and angrily punched the accelerator (1-one thousand, 2-one thousand, 3-one thousrrrrrrRRRRR!) and eventually was granted some power by the all controlling gearbox and whizzed across and around the drooling simpleton. It was downhill a bit, and last time I checked, I'd got up to 85mph, and straight past a state trooper. I think the road movie recorded the dormant vehicle light up and start to roll off the ramp. I expected a mild spanking and a small finelet, the speed limit was 70, but once pulled over, the officer claimed 'my laser never lies Sir!' and a huge and potentially incarcerating 98mph! Having known what that speed feels like and it's stomach churning effects, I thought that had to be wrong, so, I quietly shat myself, but calmly apologised and handed over my UK driving licence, just the card bit. He was at the passenger side, and Saruman laid down some excellent soothing banter as the very young officer tried to rally some anger towards me. He went to his car for a potentially life ruining 2 minutes that had me wondering if they had WiFi in jail cells these days, so I could continue the project. He returned from checking me out, then sent me on my way with a horror story about what might have become of us had we hit an elk. At 98mph. I can only assume it would have been too much hassle to properly book someone with a UK driving licence, I was sufficiently repentant or WormTongue's verbal gossamer had him all weak at the knees. Maybe it was our protestations of 'How DARE you! We're British don't you know, you miserable traitorous Roundhead!'