In 1978, when we owned a BMW Bavaria, Mrs. swsig and I were part of a tour group from the DFW chapter of the BMW Car Club of America that drove from Fort Worth to the Hill Country north and west of Austin. There were eleven cars on the tour, and we took scenic Highway 281 as the main route. Highway 281 was mostly two-lane, but it was wide, well-paved, totally rural, and lightly traveled. Needless to say, that led to some "enthusiastic" driving, despite the wretched and unpopular 55 mph national speed limit. However, we were very careful to obey posted speed limits in the occasional hamlets we encountered.
We stopped for lunch at the Dairy Queen in the small town of Hamilton. Unbeknownst to us, a local plainclothes detective (they need those in Hamilton, TX?) named George had his suspicions aroused by a bunch of funny furrin cars gathered at the DQ, so he sauntered in to take a look at us. We did not notice him. After eating, we left town at a sedate pace, but resumed our enthusiastic driving once we'd left the city limits. There was nothing to slow us down for the next 50 miles until the town of Lampasas.
After thinking about us a spell, George decided to follow in his unmarked car. When he couldn't catch up to us, he sounded the general alarm. Hamilton County had just been invaded by the biggest group of scofflaws, ever! I was toward the back of the caravan, and I frequently checked my rear view mirror, just in case. I never saw anyone following us.
After a brisk drive, we entered Lampasas, scrupulously adhering to the speed limits. As we approached the downtown area, all hell broke loose. George's general alarm had succeeded beyond his wildest imagination. In a scene straight out of Smokey and the Bandit, half a dozen Lampasas P.D. and Texas Highway Patrol vehicles roared out of various side streets, lights flashing, and completely blocked the highway just ahead of our lead car. Big excitement for the town of Lampasas! We all pulled over, of course, and the Lampasas officers told us that we would have to wait for George to arrive before they could decide what to do with us, since none of them had observed us engaging in any driving infractions. Meanwhile, the locals amused themselves driving slowly past us and our our funny furrin cars.
After a long wait, George eventually showed up in his old unmarked car. (I think it was a Chevrolet with the legendary Stovebolt Six). He claimed he'd been driving flat out and hadn't been able to catch us, not surprising, given his car. It took over an hour to issue everyone their citations. We were stopped in front of a GM automobile dealership, and they were kind enough to let us come in, use the restrooms, and check out the new models while we were waiting our turn to be cited.
We eventually continued on and stopped for an early dinner in Marble Falls. Completely bummed, our group slunk into the restaurant. After we perused the menus, a waitress approached with her order pad and asked if we were ready. Thinking quickly, our tour group leader shouted out, "Write us up!" Total hilarity ensued, and we proceeded to have a great time on the rest of the tour.
I thought my citation was legally sketchy since no officer, including George, had seen me commit a violation, and George had entered the wrong vehicle license number on it. Nevertheless, I went ahead and paid it because it was the first ticket I'd had in Texas after seven years' residence, and I didn't want to travel all the way back to Lampasas for my court date.
I guess I should have. About half the group had enough points that they returned to Lampasas for their day in court, hoping to get their citations tossed. They all got their wish. Our stalwart arresting officer, George, did not show up for the trials. Why? He'd been fired! I've often wondered if his screwball pursuit of our group had anything to do with it.
Our tour group subsequently achieved legendary status in our local BMW club chapter. From that day on, we were known as the Lampasas Eleven.
I'm pretty sure the cost of any extra gas used would be <10% of any fine.
