The Radar Detector

The other day while driving to Duluth, a gray Ford Tarus pulled onto the highway behind us at the stop lights in Silver Bay. She was tailgating because she couldn't pass due to oncoming traffic, or we were in a no passing zone, then we were in the town of Beaver Bay. When we hit the open highway, I set my cruise control at 65 mph and had no intention of going any faster.
As soon as she had the chance, she rocketed around me, then within a few seconds hit her brakes. She took off again, then touched her brakes. When she did this a third time, I told Melissa "That lady is running a radar detector. She's not sure if she’s getting a real signal or a fake signal." After a few false signals, one tends to ignore the detectors’ warning because something else in the area can set it off. I know this from my days of using radar detectors.
With a radar detector I felt like I was invisible, therefore un-catchable. It turned out I was wrong about that.
I came to learn that radar detectors are really only good for one thing: making cops smirk with smugness while they're writing your ticket. Even though I muted the device then hurriedly took the little black box off the dashboard, and shoved it under my seat, they still knew.
I had a cop ask me once, "Does your car have electric seats? Because I see you have them plugged into the cigarette lighter." I was trying to get away with something. I knew it, and he knew it. He caught me red handed thus earning the right to revel in his victorious moment, while giving me a citation.
Another time, I looked up at the cop with my most remorseful eyes, pleading, "Any chance of me talking my way out of this ticket?"
"Not when you were using a radar detector," he replied looking right at me to watch my reaction. I quickly turned away, being too embarrassed to even look at him.
A Missouri State Trooper asked me, "Does your radar detector have that new X-Band capability?" Although it was tucked in the glove box, the trooper knew I had it, and I knew that he knew that I had it. There was no sense in further making a fool of myself by pretending I didn't have one, so I came clean. "It sure does," I confessed.
"How's that working out for you? Because I have X-Band radar in my car, and it's working very well for me so far," he said as he finished writing the ticket. He extended his hand with the pad and his pen toward me.
I coughed dramatically into my own hand, sniffled a couple times, while rubbing my finger back and forth across my nose. I smiled as I signed the citation. "I'm glad for you, officer," I said, handing the pen and tablet back to him.
He took his ticket pad. “You can keep the pen compliments of the State of Missouri. I have a whole box of them in my car if you’d like another,” the trooper said, smugly. It was a cheap Bic pen.
Now there were times when the radar detector did save me from a ticket. But mostly I found they just provided a false sense of security and give cops something to laugh about when they catch you.
The lady in the gray Tarus was getting further ahead of us on Highway 61. She was really flying! As she rounded a curve on Hiway 61, with a large rock bluff on the right side of the road, she hit the brakes again but this time she held them. The trooper's taillights lit up as he depressed his brake pedal to shift his cruiser into drive and then took off after her from the shoulder of the road.
I was empathetic toward the woman. I thought, "Stupid, defective, piece of junk!" I always blamed the radar detector as the cause of my impending citation. That icky feeling came right back to me.
It's the feeling you always get when a cop is pulling you over for speeding. My anxiety shot sky high, my heart raced, my stomach hurt and felt empty. I felt sorry for the lady even though she had it coming the same as I did - every single time.
I slowed down, crowding the centerline as I passed them, stopped on the side of the road, then hit "resume" on the cruise control.
We passed a few more troopers on the way to Duluth. I did what everyone does when passing a cop - I looked at my speedometer. 70 in a 65 zone. He's not going to bother with me. I motored on down the road with confidence.
Over the years, I would say cruise control and common sense have spared me from a lot more tickets than a radar detector ever did.