A Thicket Of Constabulary

(11 p.m. in rural Yolo County)

Slicing through the night like a streamlined bat on Yolo County's Road 27, I noticed a rather aggressive driver approach from behind. I sped up a bit in response, to almost 65 mph.

Mistake.

(cue bright red-and-blue bubblegum lights)

The policeman explained "the speed limit on Yolo County Roads is 55 mph. I will let you off with a verbal warning this time, though." I was rather relieved - my registration isn't yet complete (I still need the car smogged), and I wasn't in the mood to listen to policeman lectures.

Grumbling inwardly about my innate natural right to drive along Yolo County Roads at any damned speed I felt like, I drove up to DMTC to make a delivery. Everyone had long gone home. The place was dark and I was alone - except that there was *someone* in a car, clear over at Peak Performance, watching my every move as I approached the locked door. Could it be? Yes it was! I gave a hearty wave and an insincere grin to a City of Davis policeman as he drove past.

Now cops come in threes. My drive across the Yolo Causeway back to Sacramento featured paranoia and preparations to have all my papers in order in case I forgot to comply with the West Sacramento Mandatory Wheelies Act of 2009, or whatever excuse they would have to further trouble my repose. Nothing else happened, however, and I crossed the Sacramento River bridge on Highway 50 and departed Yolo County without further incident.