"Sir, I need to see your driver's licence and registration. I will be writing you a citation but it will only take a few minutes and we will get you on your way..."
Family required that we leave little Nomad to herself this past weekend to make a "concrete cruise" out East, navigating via US Route 70. The Z car is a little shorter than Nomad, but since the physics of displacement hulls don't apply to sports cars, she is also considerably swifter. Swift enough to attract the attention of an airborne observation plane, which then called a dirt side compatriot and informed him that we were operating in apparent complete disregard for the politically correct maximum velocity assigned to this ribbon of man-made rock. He was, of course, completely correct. I was operating in complete disregard for the politically correct maximum velocity assigned to this ribbon of rock.
For some reason both Ohio and Indiana had called out their entire arsenal on this, the Monday before Thanksgiving; aircraft, unmarked cars, sleeper SUVs, and an uncountable number of Dudley Do-rights in their pimped out revenue enhancement machines. All the years Deb and I have been making this trip and we can't recall ever before seeing such a coordinated assault. It was enough to make me pretty glad that, by this time next week, we should be somewhere off Grand Bahama Island, learning what is like to sail and live on a 47' monohull.
Of course, to get there, we have to run the gloved gauntlet of the TSA, Ft. Lauderdale being too far to drive in the time we have. Unlike most of my fellow citizens I'm not that upset about being groped, so long as the groper is female, kinda cute and has warm hands. Good citizen that I am, I want to do my part to make sure the "terrorists" don't win.
I'm thinking it is going to be hard to leave the Bahama's to return to the asylum...
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