Finally, I was on the road. I'd meant to leave first thing in the morning, but it was past midday by the time the house was cleaned and the trunk of the car packed. I was headed for Edmonton, going visit my daughter and bring her some things the movers had left behind.
A recent speeding ticket had made me determined to mend my ways, so I watched the limit carefully and kept the car on cruise control. A few miles west of Hope, the junction markers indicated a specific lane for each of the three highways that separate at the junction.
I was keeping to the slow lane, because the cars in the fast lane were going beyond the speed limit, but I moved back to the centre lane when I saw the sign indicating that one as the route onto Highway 5, the Coquihalla.
That was when the young police officer pulled me over. The registration papers were in the trunk and I had to unload all my carefully packed luggage onto the gravel shoulder.
Instead of the usual rhetorical question, "Do you know how fast you were going?" the cop had another one for me: "Did you see the sign that says 'Slower traffic keep right?'"
I was going to explain about the junction lane markers and the cruise control, but a huge semi roared by. But by the time the truck with its two trailers had passed, and I could make myself heard, it was too late. The officer had written the ticket.
But I had the satisfaction of being in the right. I knew my speed was exactly 100 kmh, the posted limit, and I had a good reason for being in the centre lane.
Ironic that I was blamed for being too slow. Other cars were passing me, even as I observed the speed limit sign. Why were they not the ones being reprimanded?
This time, I decided to fight the ticket in traffic court. The cop didn't show, and I won.
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