Newton Kansan
Back when I had a citizen’s band radio and a “handle” known as The Green Machine, I became a popular face among other high school auto enthusiasts, as well as local law enforcement, who often ticketed me for speeding.
My vehicle of choice in those days was a 1972 Ford F-250 with an Explorer trim package and no tailgate. Ironically, it was green as my CB name hinted, although I later added red, orange and yellow stripes across the hood and over the cab. By today’s vehicle standards, which include fuel injection systems and overhead valves, my V-8 engine and four-barrel carburetor were one small step above a tin can with wheels. But that didn’t prevent me from receiving speeding tickets. My inability to watch the street at the same time I glanced at the speedometer resulted in a trip with my father to Salina, where I attended driving school with other vehicular plagues of society. We watched movies filled with carnage and had to pass a written exam before receiving our licenses back. As I walked away from the classroom on that overcast spring morning clutching my driving permit, I remember asking myself one of life’s big questions. “Where in the hell are my dad and the car?” About an hour later, I found out. He became lost looking for a place to drink coffee while I was attended driving school. During the years, as my checking account continued to dwindle while several North-central-Kansas counties’ economies grew due to my fines, I began learning to use a little less foot on the accelerator. Eventually, I even received a good driver discount from my auto insurance provider. So, last week when I read a story about preventing speeding tickets, I was angry — not because it wasn’t good information, but because of the many dollars toward city infrastructures I had provided over the years without this critical knowledge. “Cops are usually looking for drivers who are going noticeably faster than the other cars on the road,” according the story from Google News. “If you’re within a pack of cars all going 5 to 10 mph over the limit, you’ve automatically improved your odds of not being the one that get pulled over for a speeding ticket, even though you’re technically speeding.” If I read correctly, it’s the same theory as outrunning a bear. One does not have to be faster than a 9-foot tall grizzly. He only has to be faster than one other person who is also running. It’s simply a lesson in survival of the fittest — or in this case, the fastest. The same holds true to for speeders. “If you can’t find a pack of cars going the speed you’d like to maintain, the next best thing is to find yourself a rabbit — a solitary driver traveling the speed you’d like to drive that you can follow discretely, about 50-100 yards back,” the story stated. “If there’s a cop using radar, hopefully the rabbit will trip the trap and get a speeding ticket, not you. If he brakes suddenly, you have just received your early warning in time to take defensive action.” This same evasive measure also works if you see the bear well in front of you. Then, it’s recommended to slow down and perhaps walk until the feeding frenzy ends. “If you do get pulled over while driving a fancy, high-profile car, your odds of getting a speeding ticket versus a warning have probably gone up,” it stated. “If you’re driving a fast-looking hot rod, the cop is going to assume you use it and deserve a ticket more than the guy in a family-looking ride whose plea that he ‘didn’t’ realize he was speeding, officer’ comes off as more believable.” That’s contradictory to the look of my truck from high school, however. Obviously all those tickets were instead due to the bright stripes on my hood or the speedy sound of my CB handle. Ken Knepper is publisher of The Newton Kansan. He can be contacted at kenneth.knepper@thekansan.com.
