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November 3, 2000

"Looks to me like they may as well git rid o' ever' red light in the bloomin' state. Folks don't pay 'em a bit o' mind no how," Mel remarked as a string of light pushers blazed through an intersection long after the light had turned. "Beats all."

"You've got that right," I agreed. "It gets worse by the day. Actually, running stop signs and red lights is a serious problem nationwide. Too many people are getting hurt—even killed—because of it."

Mel eyed one more car cautiously before proceeding. "They're all in a hurry to git somewhur..."

We began discussing how police officers in some cities were starting to crack down on offenders and, in some instances, increasing the fines as a means of addressing the problem.

"The thing is, they can't post a policeman at every intersection, so what can they do?"

"One thang thur proposin' is to put cameras up above the lights so they can shoot pictures of the ones that's guilty of runnin' the lights. Then they'd send 'em a ticket in the mail, but a lot of folks don't cotton to that They say it's jist a scheme to bilk more money out of people."

"If they're not the guilty dogs, why should they care? Seems reasonable to me," I said.

"It's not that simple. You see, from that angle, the camera can git a view of the vehicle, but not necessurly the driver. So they'd have to ticket the car's owner, and it'd go against the wrong fellar's drivin' record."

I told him that seemed fair enough to me, arguing, "If they're held responsible, it'll teach them to let a wreckless fool behind the wheel of their car."

"Then you got the problem with truck drivers with 'em big rigs," my husband continued. "The trucker usually owns the tractor part, but somebody else owns the trailer. Or what about us cowmen? We're always borryin' somebody else's trailer to haul cows 'cause the tars on ours is low or because it don't make a lotta sense to own one when the neighbor's is handy..."

"Too bad. If they have to shell out the big bucks, they'll be more picky about who they loan their trailer to."

"Man, yore awful tough, woman," Mel said.

"Maybe so, but something's got to be done, and it's a start."

My husband shrugged.

"Ain't rilly a new idey. Some places they been takin' pictures of speeders and sendin' 'em tickets in the mail fer years. I remember about five er six years ago this smart alec come in the Wooden Spoon tellin' a story 'bout his scrape with the law. He wuz braggin' 'bout how he'd outsmarted the California Highway Patrol. They caught him on camera speedin' in his pickup truck. Sent him a picture in the mail as proof, along with a bill for the fine. He says to hisself, `Shoot, I'm three states away. What can they do to me?' so he sent 'em back a picture of the money," Mel hooted. "Real smug, that guy. Thought he'd got by with it."

"What happened?"

"Couple weeks later, he got a letter from 'em. Opened it up and lo and behold, they'd sent him a picture of a set o' handcuffs. Goes without sayin', he decided he'd best pay up!"