I've just had my first _ever_ encounter with the Ministry of Bacon.
There's this road, see, runs over the north end of the Miramar peninsula in Wellington. Desolate, particularly during the week. Turns out it's a 50. So I'm gently rumbling along at, apparently, 82 ... get pulled over by a member of the constabulary and will be receiving a ticket for 32 over the speed limit. Which, given the desolate road and what have you, seems a bit harsh. But hey, them's the rules, right?
So - biker gets ticket, where's the news. There isn't any. Except that I'm surprised to discover exactly how badly it fucks up your day. I'm deeply annoyed now, and am becoming more annoyed as I remember our car being broken into and getting ... ummm, zilch. Or when the rear window was broken by boy racers flinging a bottle through it ... ummm, zilch. Or my scooter being nicked, and being recovered with johnny-generic-toerag actually on the thing at the time. I got, you know it, zilch.
But 82 round a coastal road on a Wednesday afternoon - $170 and 40 points.
Fucked, innit.
Dave
Bookmarks