The flashing lights.
Driving home from work at two in the morning sucks for me and my roommates. We go through several small, affluent suburbs, where the cops really don't have anything better to do than watch for speeders, or any other potential traffic violation.
Tonight we got out of work early, at midnight. We're on our way home, stop at a stop light, and I see a cop pull up behind me. We wait, the light turns green, and sure enough, the flashing lights come on. I pull over, he gets out and (in a friendly manner) informs me I have a burned out brake light.
Why don't cops ever just pull up next to you to inform you of these things?
As luck would have it, my inspection sticker was expired, so he got to write a ticket for that. Meh. More stuff on my to do list for the next week. And I've gotta be back at work at noon for mandatory over-over-time, so my weekend's taken a hit already. Thank God for a holiday weekend.
Tonight we got out of work early, at midnight. We're on our way home, stop at a stop light, and I see a cop pull up behind me. We wait, the light turns green, and sure enough, the flashing lights come on. I pull over, he gets out and (in a friendly manner) informs me I have a burned out brake light.
Why don't cops ever just pull up next to you to inform you of these things?
As luck would have it, my inspection sticker was expired, so he got to write a ticket for that. Meh. More stuff on my to do list for the next week. And I've gotta be back at work at noon for mandatory over-over-time, so my weekend's taken a hit already. Thank God for a holiday weekend.