While I was sitting behind the wheel here, on the shoulder of Hwy. 95 about ten miles south of Goldfield, Nevada at 9:20 this morning, two highway patrol officers in their car behind me were debating my fate: will I go to jail and have the TSX towed for reckless driving, or will I just get a fat speeding ticket, for driving 60mph over the limit (70)?
It’s been a fantastic road trip. Every so often it’s highly therapeutic for me to get off into remote high-desert highways and exercise certain muscles and reinforce long-established neural connections; the ones associated with brisk driving. It had been too long.
I picked a route that looked to have a lot of what I was looking for, by heading over the Cascades from Eugene and then south on 97 into CA and eventually eastward into Nevada, via Gerlach, close to where Burning Man is held. We had a clear and sunny day leaving Eugene, and it was a splendid drive.
And once we left 97 and headed into Nevada, we were on very deserted roads, and for most of the rest of the way on day one (Monday), I had the cruise control between 90 and 110 or so. Of course there are lots ridges and curves between the long flat sections, so it’s not just continuous flats. For the next several hours, we encountered only a handful of cars. Sometimes it would be 20 minutes or more before another car was seen. This is my kind of driving country, and higher speeds keep the mind engaged and the risk of getting caught is extremely low, as these small roads are just not patrolled normally.
We spent the night in Tonopah, NV, a former mining boom town and ate supper in the Mizpah hotel, which was once the tallest building in all of Nevada. It was restored to its splendor and re-opened in 2011 after several decades closed. Of course this isn’t the first time it has been restored and re-opened.
The next morning we took Hwy 95 south to Goldfield, where we drove all over the spread-out little town that is the ultimate CC location. I took a lot of pictures and will give it its due justice when I can get to it.
Goldfield sits quit high, some 5600 ft. As soon as on heads south out of town, the arrow-straight hwy drops steadily into the much lower valley ahead. I wasn’t really thinking as I took off, but the next thing I knew, due to the down slope, I was already cresting 100. I could see the road miles ahead, and there was no one in my side, and just a few cars and trucks way off in the distance coming up the other way. I decided to take advantage of the situation and just let it roll. So we rolled down the highway at 130-135, which felt to us more like 80, given the car, the smooth road, and the perfect conditions.
But I should have known better. Unlike much of the stretch the previous day, Hwy 95 is actually a major highway, the key link between Las Vegas and the north, including the Reno area. Which means it is likely to be patrolled by police. I let my impulse and over-confidence win over rationality. I had told myself earlier to keep it down on the major highways, but didn’t follow through this time.
And sure enough, as I’m rolling down the road at 130, there comes the distinct outline of a black Explorer with a light bar. I knew instantly I was busted, and confirmed it when I saw them turn their lights on in my rear-view mirror, and pull over to turn around. I slowed down right away and pulled over, and was long stopped and well off the road before they arrived. I did not want them stressed from a high speed chase.
The driver was a young guy, and seemed intelligent and, ah…not at all hardened. He seemed downright sensitive, actually. I told him right away that I knew I was driving way too fast, and was guilty. But I also assured him that I was not a danger to myself or others, as the conditions and our car were able to support a speed like that, and that I had decades of experience driving fast, including on the autobahn in Germany. He genuinely seemed willing to listen to my spiel, but I never tried to suggest that I was anything but guilty of breaking the law.
Then his partner joined him at our passenger side window, and he was in every way the polar opposite. He was older and had a scrunched-up face that didn’t look….at all promising. He said he didn’t give a hoot that I’d driven fast in Yurrup; this was rural Nevada, and folks here don’t get away with driving like this (apparently he was ignorant of Nevada having no speed limit at all until the mid 70s or so, due to the national 55mph speed limit. And that driving fast was in Nevada was a common pastime back in the day). He said he’s never pulled over anyone going as fast as I was. He said they could arrest me for reckless driving and tow my car. He was not amused.
They went back to their car and I saw them on the radio and talking. I was a bit worried as to my fate. And it took close to half hour before that was decided.
Fortunately, the officer who was more sympathetic to my side presumably won the debate, or maybe it was up to him to decide my fate perhaps because he was in charge? In any case, he came back alone after a good 15 minutes or more and told me that he was only giving me a speeding ticket and that I should feel lucky that the charges were not more serious. I was very thankful and apologetic.
Well, it’s the most expensive ticket I’ve ever gotten, but Stephanie put it in perspective: “Paul, you always say it’s better to spend money on experiences than on stuff, and you’re going to remember this one for quite a while”. True that. And here’s the even bigger perspective: I’ve been enjoying driving fast for…as long as I’ve been driving. I first (almost) broke the century mark in a friend’s ’62 Cutlass, but the 4 barrel aluminum V8 overheated just as I was about to break that hallowed barrier. I didn’t even have my license then.
But in all these decades of driving fast (having always done so quite deliberately and conscious of my location and risks), I never once got caught driving really fast. I’ve had a sprinkling of speeding tickets over the years, but always when I had somewhat absentmindedly drifted over the limit by 15 -20 mph or so; enough to get a ticket. But never once when I was really going fast, which used to be very often in pre-radar California, as it was pretty easy to spot cop cars, and they had to follow you and time you visually back then, the good old days of good sportsmanship.
But that’s long gone, with forward facing radar that works in the opposite direction. There’s just no way to mitigate that; well, except to stick to deserted roads. My bad. I had it coming, for a long time now. But that $740 spread over 5 decades of driving comes to some $15 per year. Peanuts, for all the enjoyment I’ve derived from my dirty little habit.
As a parting word, the patrolman politely warned me to stay at legal speeds the rest of my journey through Nevada, for if I was to get busted again, I would be hauled off to the slammer. Yes sir! 80 mph (a safe 10 over the limit) suddenly felt like 40.
Fortunately, it was only another couple of hours before we left 95 and took a very deserted road to Death Valley Junction and down through the Mojave. And we have arrived at our destination in Morongo Valley, CA. And tomorrow we’re going hiking; enough of this driving stuff. Of course I tend to walk fast too.
Postscript 2023: I was expecting a big jump in my insurance rates at the next renewal after this ticket. Ironically, the rate dropped substantially, as two relatively minor speeding tickets had aged out (3 years), and this ticket in Nevada was never picked up by my insurance company.
I haven’t gotten a ticket since this one, but that’s undoubtedly because I drive the vans on road trips now, and I keep my speed way down in it. I have two modes of driving: fast and relaxed. The van is always in the second category.
The TSX is still rolling though, as Stephanie’s car. I just hardly ever drive it though, sometimes not for months. But I always appreciate its willingness to step out and its superlative handling. It’s a genuine…sportwagon.
Imagine getting pulled over on an almost deserted Interstate in rural Idaho in the wee hours of the morning for substantially over the speed limit. Chevy pickup, Oregon plates, dog in the back seat. After the usual pleasantries, the officer wanted to see my license and registration. “Officer, my license, registration, insurance info, and firearm are in the glovebox. How would you like to handle this?”
Unbelievably I drove off a few minutes later, but not without a stern warning and an inspection of my permit. I have nothing else to add to this thread (how long is the Statute of Limitations?)
In the State of Victoria, Australia, 8 demerit points, automatic impoundment of vehicle, police would charge with dangerous driving (if not reckless conduct endangering life), which no prosecutor would withdraw, so then an automatic minimum of 6 months off the road and more realistically the court would order 12. (Bugger-all chance of defending the charge either, all loopholes long since sewn up). Fine would be in the $2000 range. Add in the costs of recovering your car and the lawyer you’d be foolish not to hire. Oh, and if you’re from another state, all these penalties here would go onto your licence there.
When much younger, I sped like a hoon. On country 60mph roads like this, everyone sat on 75 mph, those in a hurry like me on about 85 or more. But we’ve had ever-stricter enforcement over many years, and nobody but 20 y.o. males whose brains are literally not yet fully wired ever do 130+.
Mind you, it’s not some inherent restraint in folks that have caused the big slowdown – it’s the big threat. And hate to admit, but it works. We have a very low fatality rate, though I’d also add we have very low driving standards and a good deal of frustration from driving endlessly in schools at exactly the limit (mostly 62mph) across empty country (and yeah, I know lower speeds aren’t the only factor in lower fatalities).
No matter how much I love this website, as someone who has had people who are friends and family die in accidents where speed was a factor (regardless of any sort of arbitrary speed limit) I cannot respect this behavior.
What if your tire blows, what if you hit an animal, what if you just can’t anticipate the traffic ahead? What if anything? No matter how in control you might feel at the time, you could end up killing either yourself or someone else. An Acura can’t protect you at that speed — and it can’t protect who you might hit at that speed.
This isn’t a “gimme” this is a “got out of jail free card.” This ticket is not something to be proud of, it’s a lucky way to say that you didn’t kill yourself or someone else.
Just because you CAN speed excessively doesn’t mean you should, just because you’ve driven on the autobahn (like many of us) doesn’t mean you’re right. Also, in a white Acura? Insult to injury.
Indeed. No one ever expects an accident – that’s why they’re called accidents. The unexpected can and does happen, with the ability to recover and avoid decreasing as speed goes up. Speed limits of 80-85 on Western interstates seem reasonable, but things can happen awful fast at 100 mph plus and when they do, the results aren’t going to be pretty. Reasonable speed limits should be about safety and exceeding them by 10-15 mph might not be a big deal. But I don’t want to be sharing the road with people blasting along at 130.
Paul Arnold Niedermeyer, behave yourself! Haha.
I’m loving your route, by the way. Last year, I sketched out a plan for a Californian road trip, going as far north as Eureka, as far east as Death Valley, and as far south as San Diego. I was thinking about doing it this year, but then I changed my mind and decided on an Icelandic ring road trip. Now I’ve changed it again to a non-driving trip to Europe. We’ll see what I end up doing…
Great story, Paul and it hits home once again. From my RD350 in high school to my 280Z and Suzuki Bandit 1200, I’ve enjoyed a lot of safe and spirited driving/riding. Only 1 speeding ticket (knock on wood) in 40+ years, and it had to come in the slowest vehicle I’ve ever owned-my 05 Wrangler. Cruising from Weed CA towards Doris CA on hwy 97, I let it hit 80 on a long, sweeping downhill curve. About 2 miles ahead there was a string of cars coming my way. Soon, I noticed a black vehicle with a white top at the back of the pack. I immediately took my foot off the throttle even though they were still a mile away. “CHP”, I said when my girlfriend asked why I slowed down. “You can’t possibly tell what that car is” she smirked. Ten minutes later as Barney was writing me up, I told him I couldn’t believe he would ruin my perfect driving record for a little speeding “in this God-forsaken sh*thole”. So he added a fix-it for no mud flaps, “just so you don’t feel cheated”. Had to open my big mouth.
I’m reminded of a buddy back in high school, around 1980. Here in Jacksonville we have a 3+ mile long bridge, infamous to this day for speeding upon. Danny had a ’70 Challenger convertible with a modified 383-V8. He claims he was shot by a state trooper at 143mph, the limit then was 55mph (it’s now 65mph). It was a young trooper who wanted to see under the hood. After looking it over, he said, “I don’t believe this heap will do 143mph, my radar must be messd up. Get outta here.”
Or so that’s the story…
Tsk tsk tsk Paul, my heroes are dropping one by one….first Al Franken and now you.
Only kidding; it might be jealousy. I’ve done 120 in the Saab but that was short term to “check the alignment”. I start losing confidence above 90; despite the wide-open spaces I still PTSD over my 2 deer strikes.
That TSX sounds like a charmer….
I find speeding stressful so I set the cruise at a few mph over the posted limit and relax.
130 MPH?! That is substantial!
Two months ago me and two friends ( a buddy and his girlfriend ) make a trip to Havasu to retrieve his ’03 Dodge Ram 2500 Cummins, which he left at the home of the couple he bought his cherry ’06 Ram Laramie from. I was driving my 1995 Lexus LS400.
After getting his truck, having dinner, and a little sightseeing, we made the long trek back to L.A. Around 10:30 at night, driving down a particularly deserted stretch of Highway 40 W, I happened to glance down at my speedommeter and I was doing 110. I immediately backed off- not because I feared imminent death, but I definitely feared the massive hit to my wallet if ol’ Smokey spotted me.
Ah, I know that section of US95 well, and I never do more than about 10 over, if that, on it. On some less traveled roads I have, and one time I got a ticket for 80 in a 70 in that general neighborhood. But the GPS said 78. I don’t know if the GPS or radar was correct, but after calling the local Nevada Court asking about traffic school for an out of state driver I was told I could petition for a “No Points” ticket. Which I did and which I was granted. $75 or so? A bargain compared to my home state of California.
As to Paul’s little drive? In the area, really no big deal if the tires and car are up to it. Traffic laws are made for a variety of reasons, but fairness or reasonableness are rarely among them.
A few years ago, I was selling broadcast TV gear and was giving my pitch at ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut. The engineers were impressed and asked if they could have an additional discount if they purchased $250K of the gear. But of course.!
So I’m headed South on 684 with Virgil, a good ol’ southern boy and inventor of the technology. That I just sold. I was in my SVT Focus with the twin cam engine and a getrag 6 speed tranny. Speed limit is 55 and I’m approaching 100 in 4th with two more gears to go. Suddenly Virgil blurts out, “Thars a cop in the median.” ! I hit the brakes but he had me. I put down my window, and place my hands on the wheel where they can easily be seen. Jamaican by birth, the State Trooper says, “Talk to me mon!” I excitedly relate my story and admit that I was so worked-up that I wasn’t watching the Speedo. Plus, “I have a guy with me who doesn’t speak English ? Trooper shines the mag light in Virgil’s face and in his best southern drawl he says, “Hey!” The trooper says, “Well this is a very fast car and you must be careful but I don’t wanna be ruining the ‘Feeling!” Have a nice day.” At which Point Virgil says to me “Wow, y’all ARE A SALESMAN.
True story!
Great stories here .
I’ve seen too much carnage and so rarely exceed 85 MPH .
One of my old Mercedes turbo Diesels had a broken governor in the injection pump, the GPS said it went 127 MPH @ WFO, that I.P. smoked so badly I replaced it and now I’m lucky to get 92 MPH if there’s no wind and the road is dead flat .
In general I prefer to drive slow cars fast .
-Nate
I have this here old Tomcat next to me, and you will not believe what he just told me. He says one could pair a Raspberry Pi with some SDR technology and a wee antenna or two and make an adaptive radar jammer. This is loathesome and illegal. For that, he sleeps outside with the coons tonight.