Last week, I let the #1 son take a short trip on the highway. It was my second attempt at riding shotgun with him on the interstate. He is 16. He knows it all. And he learned it from the teachers at school.
I voiced a slight concern that he was driving 65 in a 60 mph zone. And wouldn't you know it, karma smiled on me, and provided a state highway patrol car just over the next hill.
See? Now will you slow down?
Oh, I don't need to slow down. I'm only going five miles over the limit.
That's my point. You're going OVER the speed limit.
I can go up to nine miles over and still be all right.
That's what Mrs. Lunchbuddy told us, when we went to the robot competition. 'Nine is fine. Ten, you're mine.' That's what the police say.
Uh huh. And did you know that you can't be convicted if the radar wasn't calibrated in the past twenty-four hours?
No, I did not. Where did you hear that?
Mr. Lunch Guy told us. On that trip to the industrial arts competition. You can get a ticket, but if you fight it, and they don't have documentation about the calibration, you don't have to pay.
I think I need to have a word with my cronies at lunch next year. And while I'm at it, I'm going to thank Arch Nemesis SO MUCH for teaching you the Yellow Car game on the way to those academic meets.
Here's the deal. We don't have a driver's ed course. I don't need various and assorted teachers giving my novice driver tips on how to skirt the law. And I would live happily ever after if I didn't hear the words yellow and car used together ever again. Have you ever played that game? While driving around, you shout YELLOW CAR every time you see one. The person with the most at the end of the trip wins. It grates on your nerves if you're the driver.
Especially if you're trying to hold your speed at nine miles over the speed limit.