Since we are now into a speed zone tangent, an anecdote:
I once got a ticket for going 70 in a 70 zone. The deal is: the limit on the N/S road going to a population center in the middle of the state had just changed from 55 up to 70, and had been reported in the papers as such, etc. The change was new enough that the old speed limit signs were all down, but the new ones were not yet up. Evidently, the long-time trooper who pulled me over had not received the memo.
OK, cool, I’ll just set a court date, and make a day of it. So the time comes to drive back down for my court date, and I take my little folder with my copy of the ticket, a news paper clipping of the “road news” update, and—get this—an old school polaroid camera—with which I took pics of several of the new speed limit signs noting that the road was 70mph all the way down.
So I get to court, and the trooper is a no-show. I’m thinking that this is a slam dunk.
The judge listens to my side of the deal, and then says: I grew up around here, and I’ve seen a lot of accidents on that road. It should still be 55. The ticket stands.
So I had to pay the ticket.
About a decade later, I have the chance to do my thing on an outdoor stage at the city’s big riverside park for their yearly music festival, so I told the story over the mic to a couple thousand people.
Afterwards, as Mrs T and I are selling CDs off stage, a pile of people—and by “pile” I mean 7 or 8 couples, come up to tell us “We all know that judge. He’s always been an asshole.”
Anyways, carry on.