Latvia pulled out a cracking day for me. One of those crisp autumn days where the sky is blue and the air is cold! The leaves are yellowing and starting to fall, it’s pretty chilly on the bike but so beautiful I don’t care. I’ve got my heated vest on and life is good!
So good that I don’t notice the police radar at the roadside. Oh dear! After flagging me down, Mr. Plod takes a good look at my bike, especially the licence plate, before he speaks. He’s probably decided I’m not worth the paperwork, so he simply says (in perfect English)…
“We have speed limits here. 50. OK?”
OK I say. Sorry.
He says “OK, Go. But slowly!”
And away I went. Thinking about it, I was bimbling along quite slowly anyway. Cold air means a bitter chill at higher speeds, so I was running at 80kph most of the day. I’d just turned onto the main road and was accelerating, so I’d guess on 60 through the radar. Not a great deal over the limit.
He was probably looking for people going the other way, coming from the 90 zone into the 50 without slowing down. Easy targets.
Anyway, it’s all good. All of the police I’ve encountered so far have been very reasonable. Even Kazakhstan, though Chip and Ken may say otherwise. Then again, I’m not 19 any more and generally not doing anything dangerous!
I passed through Liepaja, which like most of the towns was tiny. The sign was petty though, so I stopped for a photo. Cracking day!
