We were northbound out of Las Vegas on I-15 heading toward St. George, Utah, when traffic just stopped. After a couple of frustrating hours, we abandoned the Interstate to improvise a route through nighttime desert.
After another two hours through nowhere at speeds ranging from 50 to 75 mph, we came into the little town of Overton, Nevada. It’s nearly 2am. The speed limit drops from 55 to 25 in about 50 feet. V1 wakes up with two weak bogeys and within a hundred yards it’s at full max alert. Town is shut down, no streetlights, nothing but hidden trouble.
I see a suspect in a closed-down gas station, a black sedan backed in, no lights in the station, no light bar on the suspect. But soon I can make out a white stripe, and in the stripe the letters spell P-O-L-I-C-E. One down.
Now V1 says one behind and one still ahead. I can’t believe a 25-watt town like this has two cops working at 2am, but I know better than to argue with V1. Not even a mile down the road V1 is maxed out again, the front arrow emphatically flashing. I see him, off to the left in the pitch black of an empty parking lot.
What can I say? V1 ruins the night for two more revenuers.