Texas Cops are Criminals

January, 1986.

Pecos County, Texas.

Speeding along I-10 in an RX-7, with my ex-girlfriend, through the middle of nowhere.

Literally. Nowhere. Speeding.

Nothing as far as the eye could see, except for the weeds growing in the median, obstructing my view of the Texas Rangers, who happened to be lurking on the other side of the highway. I didn't see them until I'd passed them (Oh, shit!), and looking up in my rearview mirror, I could see two cars crossing the median and coming my way. I immediately pulled over. I mean, where the hell was I going to hide? One car pulled up behind me and two pathetic, little rednecks got out. As we stood there, the other car passed, while one of the cops I was tied up with, gave his redneck brethren a macho "Yeah-we-got-'im" salute.

The two-foot-tall trooper with a 10-gallon hat asked me (verbatim), "Son, you see any reason to be goin' 80 miles an hour?" I wanted to tell him that between my desire to get out of the shithole that is Texas, and my distracted, getting-a-hand-job state of mind, I wasn't paying much attention to speed. Of course, remembering that discretion is the better part of valor, I made some lame excuse about being behind schedule, and was just looking to make up for lost time.

After looking at my drivers license and handing it back to me, he told me to follow him back into town. "Town" (and that would be a generous use of the word) consisted of a few shitty trailers, and the low, sun-baked municipal building that probably contained the police station, courthouse, jail, utilities departments, and town diner; all rolled into one, miserable hell hole.

As we walked into the building, he told me to wait in the lobby, while he went in to talk to the justice of the peace. He told me he would see if he could cut me a break, then disappeared from view. After about 15 minutes (I guess that's how long it took those guys to blow each other), he came back out to tell me my fine was $126. Hmmm... I wasn't ticketed, and I didn't appear before a representative of the judicial system; my fine just happened to be $126.

Now, I knew what game was being played. I also knew that unless I paid, then and there, I would be sitting in a shitty Texas jail until Monday morning, with the possible result not being any different than the offer I'd been presented. Was I going to call their bluff? Fuck no.

We went back out to the car, rounded up all the cash we could find (including change from the ashtray) to scrounge up the amount it would take to keep my hindquarters out of jail. Sure, we had a lot of money in traveller's checks (remember those?), but I sure as hell didn't want them to know that. Money in hand, I gave it to Officer Fuckstick, and was magically free to go. No ticket, no receipt, no "You sure got a pertty mouth" ass-fucking. I may be a lot of things, Ned Beatty I am not.

All-in-all, a fair trade.