Never Too Old for a Speeding Ticket.

When you reach the ripe old age of seventy-five, you would think there would not be many firsts left in life.

Not my mum.

At 75, she somehow managed to acquire her very first speeding ticket.

What is even more impressive is that she had recently spent a small fortune on designer driving glasses. Fancy ones. The type that are supposed to help you see things more clearly.

Things like road signs.

And large marked police speed vans.

Apparently not.

According to Mum, she did not see the police van at all.

Not even a little bit.

Her defence was immediate.

“But I was only doing 22 when I got to the top of the hill.”

Which would be a reasonable argument if she had been caught at the top of the hill.

She was not.

The speed camera had already recorded her driving past at 25mph in a 20mph zone.

A busy road, too. The sort where cars are parked on both sides, forcing everyone to weave carefully through the gaps. The sort of road where you would think a large police van would stand out.

Yet somehow, Mum remained oblivious.

The evidence was fairly comprehensive.

Two photographs.

A video.

A calibration certificate for the speed detection equipment.

In short, enough proof to convince any reasonable person.

Mum, however, is not always a reasonable person when she believes she is right.

“It’s not fair,” she protested. “They trapped me.”

No, Mum. That is not how speed enforcement works.

“They were following me.”

Again, no.

The pictures very clearly showed a stationary police van videoing Mum driving away from it, up the hill. The speed dropped to 22mph afterwards, presumably because she was going up the hill and was relying on that to slow her down.

“See? I slowed down.”

A little late, unfortunately.

What fascinated me most was not that she had been caught speeding. Plenty of people get caught speeding.

It was her unwavering determination to argue with photographic evidence.

The woman was essentially trying to win a debate against a camera.

I can only imagine how successful she would be on a speed awareness course.

“Are you willing to accept responsibility for exceeding the speed limit?”

“Well, actually…”

Perhaps the silver lining is that this happened before she gets her new car. A shiny 2-litre model that apparently has considerably more enthusiasm than her current one.

Before she drives it anywhere, however, there is one essential lesson she needs to learn.

How to use the speed limiter.

Because if she can miss a marked police van in broad daylight while wearing designer glasses, I suspect technology may be our only hope.

Although, knowing Mum, she will probably argue with the speed limiter too.