Sneaky Little Buggers

I live in a village. We don't have our own post office, and if you address something to this village, it won't make it. We're so small, we share with the three surrounding townships.

It's almost one of those "don't blink" places. 2.2 miles, 3 stop lights, 3 gas stations, 4 bars, 5 resturants, a strip mall with 4 closed shops, 2 garages, 2 liquor stores, a drive-thru liquor store, and an adult store. It's a jam packed strip of klassiness.

Despite being so small, we do have our own police force. There are 5 patrol cars. And tonight, every single one of them was positioned along that 2.2 miles, doing what they do best.

As you roll down the high traffic, main route road that is our village center, the speed limit drops. On one end it goes from 40 to 25, the other from 55 to 25. If you don't know it's coming, you're shit out of luck, my friend. Because exactly 3 feet past that speed limit sign is one of our finest, ready to pick you out. You should take heed and listen to the just-before-the-limit Mr.Chicken sign that says "Avoid a ticket, eat here."

As you crest the hill, you can see the whole 2.2 miles. A quick scan often lulls drivers into thinking they are quite safe, everyone is at the Donut Shoppe (yes, we have a Donut Shoppe). But, you see, these are some sneaky little buggers, and you'll never see them till you have lights in your mirror. Tonight, one was in a full parking lot, another was at the car repair place, a third was behind a stand of bushes, a fourth was at the other car repair place and the fifth was in another full parking lot. All totally blended in, unless you knew they were there and knew their sneaky little hiding spots.

The guy in front of me didn't know.

It was awesome.

I, on the other hand, clearly knew they were there. I like to tempt fate a little and go 27. Or maybe even 28. I'm a thrill seeker, for sure.