We All Have Our Reasons

Back in the seventies they lowered the speed limit in Montana from 'however fast you could make that damn thing go', to 55. That would have been at about the exact time I, and a lot of other good citizens, participated in our first acts of civil disobedience. Actually the state enacted a 5 dollar fine and the crime was titled, voluntary waste of a natural resource. A five dollar fine isn't exactly the same as 20 to life in Leavenworth but, give us our due. We were civil disobedient sons of bitter women and men who wanted to go fast too. The ticket did not go on your record and your insurance would never know. I know the government thinks they made some kind of big difference with that limit and the other steps taken but the only evidence they can produce is that we reduced, by better than half, our nation's dependency on oil. Fair enough but, come on! We were in a hurry.

There I was, following that International Scout down that muddy road at about six miles an hour. That 4x4 was doing fine but my Pontiac was struggling, just a bit. When we finally got to the pavement I was furious, and doing about 75, when I went around him. That's what the officer said anyway.

There I was, sitting in that patrol car watching that Scout plod on down the highway at about 45. After a polite visit, and the transfer of a five dollar bill, I resumed my trip. I had only gone about ten miles when I caught that ridiculous Scout again. Man I loathed that guy. That time I was going 93 miles an hour when I showed him who was boss. I'm almost dead sure I was going 93, because that's what the second officer said his radar gun revealed.

There I was, sitting in that second patrol car, when that Scout ambled by a again. I guess I should point out that the Montana Highway Patrol kind of gets it when a guy wastes a natural resource while passing a Scout. They will, however, exercise their power to the extent of their five dollar limit if that guy is still voluntarily treating that resource all willy-nilly five miles after he passed said Scout. I pointed out that my car got 11 miles to the gallon whether I was going 55 or 95 so I wasn't really doing excessive wasting due to my haste. The officer suggested that, if I tell that to a judge, I might start getting tickets at any speed. I decided not to fight that one. I cruised at about 58, or 9, the rest of the way home. I never did see that jerk in that Scout again and resolved that I would simply live my life hating Scouts and their owners.

Here I am, a reformed natural resource waster, who can now use this platform to explain why, to this day, I never pass a Scout without getting all dry-mouthed and constantly checking my mirror. Next time I'm at a party and introduced to someone new, if they mention that they used to ride in the hills with their uncle in his Scout, they might cut me some slack when under my breath, I say, "the bastard."

Driving tip:  Remember if you are stuck behind some clown in a Scoutesque vehicle on a two lane highway, always do a head check before you pull out to pass. The guy behind you might have had previous experience with Scouts and already be beside you in his haste to get that thing behind him.