Driving back from Nashua, I took a long cut over Monadnock Mountain. I usually drive straight through, and though I'm not totally unfamiliar with the road, I don't know it well or anything.
It's a rural area, speed limits alternating depending on terrain. It ranges anywhere from 40 to fifty.
Honestly, I thought I was in a 45...night and I missed the sign. Be that as it may, when I went by the cruiser, the HUD said 51.
It was a narrow road; I pulled far over to the right, flashers on, dome light on, engine off, hands on steering wheel. As usual, my 92 is on my hip.
That's when the weird started; two flashlights appeared in the rear-view mirror. I instantly assumed rookie and FTO.
The younger officer introduced himself and asked why if I knew why I was pulled over. I said "I'm guessing speed...I was going 51, it's a 45."
"You were going 51...it's a forty."
My mistake. I didn't argue, and I'm not going to make excuses.
"Do you have your license and registration?"
"I do...officer, I also have a firearm on my right hip that I would like to transfer to you. My permit is on my wallet. Do you want that now?"
His eyes shot to the other officer, who immeaditaly moved around to get a better look at me. My hands were still on the steering wheel, and I looked straight ahead. After a moment he said "yes," and telling him what I was going to do in advance I handed him my pistol, two fingers on the grip. The FTO took it and disappeared to the rear.
The rest of the stop was routine...except that the younger officer's hands never stopped shaking. I feel so bad for the poor guy...I doubt he was expecting to do that on what could have been one of his first stops! I also doubt he was a New Hampshire native; he wasn't familiar with the older style of licenses (mine expires in 2003...they changed them a week after mine was issued) and hence probably wasn't used to the gun-totin red-necks that hide out in the woods around here. I have this nightmare image of the poor guy going home, or seeing his life flash by his eyes...
I hope he doesn't quit...
It's a rural area, speed limits alternating depending on terrain. It ranges anywhere from 40 to fifty.
Honestly, I thought I was in a 45...night and I missed the sign. Be that as it may, when I went by the cruiser, the HUD said 51.
It was a narrow road; I pulled far over to the right, flashers on, dome light on, engine off, hands on steering wheel. As usual, my 92 is on my hip.
That's when the weird started; two flashlights appeared in the rear-view mirror. I instantly assumed rookie and FTO.
The younger officer introduced himself and asked why if I knew why I was pulled over. I said "I'm guessing speed...I was going 51, it's a 45."
"You were going 51...it's a forty."
My mistake. I didn't argue, and I'm not going to make excuses.
"Do you have your license and registration?"
"I do...officer, I also have a firearm on my right hip that I would like to transfer to you. My permit is on my wallet. Do you want that now?"
His eyes shot to the other officer, who immeaditaly moved around to get a better look at me. My hands were still on the steering wheel, and I looked straight ahead. After a moment he said "yes," and telling him what I was going to do in advance I handed him my pistol, two fingers on the grip. The FTO took it and disappeared to the rear.
The rest of the stop was routine...except that the younger officer's hands never stopped shaking. I feel so bad for the poor guy...I doubt he was expecting to do that on what could have been one of his first stops! I also doubt he was a New Hampshire native; he wasn't familiar with the older style of licenses (mine expires in 2003...they changed them a week after mine was issued) and hence probably wasn't used to the gun-totin red-necks that hide out in the woods around here. I have this nightmare image of the poor guy going home, or seeing his life flash by his eyes...
I hope he doesn't quit...
![[Frown]](frown.gif)
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