Getting a speeding ticket on the highway is a cultural experience for a not-very-often driver like me. Actually, I wasn’t even driving. My friend was. But still, it was one of those classic moments and while it meant a $40. ticket for my friend I was just soaking it up.

We were driving along on Highway 1A from Rehoboth Beach to Wilmington area, when my friend saw some police lights in her rearview mirror.

"Shit, is this guy stopping me. Was I speeding?"

She pulled over and waited for the police officer to get our of his car and tell her what was going on.

"Do you know how fast you were driving?"

Not really. I was following the car in front of me. Certainly not going any faster than anyone else" she said.

"Do you have any idea what the speed limit is around here?"

"No I’m not sure. We were gabbing and I guess I lost sight of that too," he said.

"Well you were going quite a bit over the speed limit. Where are you two from?"

"We’re from Brooklyn."

"No," he said. "Where in Brooklyn?"

"Park Slope," I said.

"No," he said again. "I’m from Park Slope. I grew up on 17th Street between 8th and 9th Avenues. My parents still live there. Where do you live?  he asked me.

"Third Street," I said.

"No." he said. 

I tried to milk it for all I could. We both did. Have you been to Park Slope lately. It’s really changed. Have you heard about the high rises on Fourth Avenue?

"I heard there are condos across from the armory.

Yup. We tried to keep the conversation going. You never know when you’re going to run into someone from Park Slope. He actually did get a lot nicer after that. But he did give my friend a ticket. $40 bucks.

"Drive safely. The speed limit speeds up a little up the way," he said.

And off he went.