England obviously got a head start in putting women into cop cars, and what fine ones they are. I’d almost be honored to have one of them an open MGA pull me over.
Speaking of, it seems there are still might few women patrolling the highways still. I used to play cat and mouse every Sunday morning with a female CHP officer, on I 280 a bit south of San Francisco. We used to drive up from Los Gatos to the city every Sunday morning in my 300E. I regularly exceeded 100 on that “commute”, but always slowed down around a certain rest area near the ugly Junipero Serra statue. Up on the connector road or that rest area, there she usually sat waiting for me – “my girlfriend,” as Stephanie called her – in a black and white Mustang LX 5.0 notchback coupe, ready to pounce down. If she wasn’t there, I’d have to really keep my eyes peeled. But it was a fair game then, since the CHP didn’t use radar for the most part back then.
I did eventually get pulled over by another one, also in CA. But I never got to have any face time with “my girlfriend”.
Yep but she wasnt driving a cherry MGA 1600 just a standard highway patrol Commodore and was most omdignant that Id had the cheek to travel at 134kmh in a 100 zone. I didnt have the heart to tell her that the moment I spotted her Id stood on the brakes and Id been at over 160 then, your licence evaporates at 50kms over the limit here. that was a very expensive parking spot.
In the lamest way possible. I was pulling off US 41 in my Buick Century wagon with bald-ass tires on a rainy day and did a 360* spin right in front of a Sheriff’s Dept. Crown Vic. She threw on her lights and pulled up along side to ask if I was all right. I told her it was my bald tires and she told me to get new ones and drove off. Two $12 Road King radials and I was good to go. Pretty cool, considering how many male deputies gave me the full perp treatment for having a burned-out headlight, including one time where there was a training exercise and no fewer than six cruisers were behind me in the Chevron parking lot for the headlight. I felt like Pablo Escobar.
There was a neighborhood that was regularly used as a short cut because it avoided a six-way intersection where traffic was routinely backed up a half-mile in every direction and you could wait upwards of an hour for the light to finally be in your favor. It was in this neighborhood I received my first-ever speeding ticket, courtesy of a lady officer whose job it was to catch anyone who tore through there at twice the speed limit. I was the driver of a tiny Hyundai packed with teenage boys heading to or from a Taco Bell on a cold winter afternoon, and I know she loved every second of it. She delivered the ticket with either a smile or a smirk, but I was very polite so I want to believe it was a smile. Oh yeah, she drove a Crown Vic. The Caprices had been retired by that point in time. That little cut-through now has speed bumps, but is still probably faster than waiting for that darn intersection. I doubt she’s still there, though.
Never did. I was broken of my lead-foot habits (five tickets issued by MALE officers helped that) before women began doing traffic patrol in large numbers in my region.
Just as well. I’d have had to fight a temptation to throw her over my knee for a spanking…bad girl.
Which invokes the problem of women officers in that role – PRESENCE is a big part of it. Brains count, but having the physical presence to control a scene makes an enormous difference.
Somehow, someone weighing 98-pounds soaking wet, saying “STOP…or I’ll shoot myself in the FOOT!!”…doesn’t do it.
I have seen a similar but slightly picture with a row of Triumph Spitfires. FWIW all my traffic stop experiences were with male officers.
That “Police” sign over the grill has got to cut 5mph off the top speed of that MG.