[RKDinOKC]

I passed an Arkansas Highway Patrol back when the speed limit was 55. He was the 4th car from the front of a line of traffic about 2 miles long with everyone in the right lane on divided interstate.

Was in my 914. My alternator belt self destructed 50 miles from the nearest city (Fort Smith), and it was almost dark. The high wattage halogen bulbs would have drained the battery in mere minutes so I decided to try to beat sundown to Ft Smith.

Cruising along at 120 I was thinking it was really convenient all the traffic in the right lane. Sure enough the 4th car from the front of this long line of cars had lights on top. As we wizzed by my nephew in the passenger seat waved at the patrolmen. It must have really surprised them as I didn't see his flashing lights come on until I was already a mile ahead. I quickly did some calculation in my head.

About 20 miles to Ft Smith exit and me doing 120 would take 10 minutes to reach the exit. I figured the patrol would only go 135 max giving a closing rate of 25 mph. At my speed I would have put at least 5 miles between us by the time he reacted pulled out and reached 135 in pursuit. At 25 mph closing rate it would take him at the least 12 minutes. By that time I would have reached my exit.

Well, at 120 mph I missed the poorly marked exit and took the next one only another mile farther. I had to go another 1/4 mile down a frontage road and cross over the highway on an overpass to get back on the highway to go back to the Ft Smith exit. Crossing the overpass we could see the patrols lights topping a hill a few miles back down the highway. I pulled over next to the overpass's concrete railling where it was solid, basically hiding my very short 914. Sitting in the car we could barely see over the railing.

We watched as the patrol car wizzed by with his lights and sirens blazing. As soon as he topped the hill behind us moving on down the highway we got back on, took the exit to Ft Smith, and checked into the first motel we came to parking the car around back out of sight.

About an hour later we found that the Amoco gas station across the street from the motel had an alternator belt, popped it on, checked out of the room, and continued our trip back to OKC. Didn't really feel safe from pursuit until we crossed the border to Oklahoma.

This happened my first weekend of Porsche ownership.