A quick thinker... and a trooper.

retroxler58

A senior citizen drove his brand new corvette convertible out of the
dealership. Taking off down the road, he floored it to 80 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little hair he had left.[:)]

'Amazing,' he thought as he flew down the interstate, pushing the pedal even more. Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw a state trooper behind him, lights a flashin' and siren a blarin'. He floored it; First a 100 mph, then 110, then 120... Suddenly he thought, 'What in the world am I doing? I'm too old for this,' and pulled over to await the trooper's arrival.[:o)]

Pulling in behind him, the trooper walked up to the new Corvette, looked at his watch and said..., 'Sir, my shift ends in 30 minutes. Today is Friday. If you can give me a reason for speeding that I've never heard before..., I'll just let you go.'[^]

The old gentleman paused... Then said..., '...Years ago, my wife ran off with a State Trooper... I thought you were bringing her back.'[;)]

'Have a good day, sir,' replied the trooper.[8D]

savage170

[:D]

hdcolt51

Good one [:D]

machine gun moran

[:D][:D][:D][:D]

The following is a true story.

A Wisconsin State Patrolman was running radar alongside the Interstate. A car went by doing 100 mph. The patrolman caught up to him, and turned on his visibar. The guy kept doing a steady 100 mph, for another mile, so the Trooper turned on his siren as well. For still another mile, the guy maintained 100 mph, so the Trooper started hitting his horn, as well. At that, the guy slammed on his brakes so hard that the Trooper said he had all he could do to get stopped behind him without hitting him. Before the Trooper could exit his vehicle, the guy got out of his own car and came flying back, shouting into the Trooper's open window,

"Look, you Son-of-a-B****, if you want to go by me, you can use the OTHER lane!"

jimdeere

The following is a true story:
Back in the early '70s, coming home through a rural county in southern West Virginia, I got behind some slow moving traffic. I knew the road, so as we all were rounding a bend that started a long straight away, I pulled out to pass the old gentleman, crossing the double yellow line. I noticed the plain blue Ford Galaxy come with me and tried to pull up beside me. As I had rather long hair in those days, I didn't want to get into a race with some local redneck, so I mashed it on down and got up to about 100. Mr. Crew Cut White T-shirt fell right in behind on my bumper, flashing his headlights.
Every time he'd get up beside me, we'd enter a curvy section and he'd have to back off. My '67 Fairlane was lighter and cornered better, and my 289 would wind tight on the straightaways.
About 10 miles later, I pulled into the county seat beside the local courthouse/sherriff's office. Crew Cut pulls in right behind me. Getting out of his car, spitting about a quart of tobacco juice, he says "What the hell you think you're doing?" He's got on striped brown pants and has a deputy's pressed shirt on a hanger over the seat. Needless to say, he's pissed!
Turns out, he's the chief deputy coming in to start his shift, and boy is he mad. Made me come in the jailhouse/courthouse/sherriff's office to meet the Justice of the Peace. I swear to God, the place is a spitting image of Mayberry's jail on "Andy Griffith".
Anyway, turns out, it's late in the day and Mr. J.O.P. is drunk and I can tell he and the deputy have "issues". They get in a big shoving and shouting match. I take my que and slip out the side door to my Fairlane and down the road I go. I avoided that county for several years after that, and still watch the rear mirror if I go through there.