About a decade ago, I was traveling my usual route to my mother’s home on a Satilla River estuary. Near Dublin, Ga, a cop started to follow me in the right lane of US 441. I checked my speedometer, and I was doing 63 in what I thought was a 65mph zone. After a bit, the cop turned on his lights. He didn’t pass me, so I pulled over. The cop stopped behind me, approached my car, and after checking my license, registration, and insurance, asked me what I thought was the speed limit. I answered 65 and added that I was aware that it dropped to 55 about a mile ahead. He informed me that they’d moved the drop to 55 a few miles further out and suggested that I had missed the sign and that’s why I passed the slow moving truck before moving into the right lane. He then asked me how fast I was going when I passed the truck. I answered honestly that I didn’t know, I had seen that the left lane was clear, accelerated around the truck, and resumed my normal speed. He asked me where I was going, and I told him that I was headed to my mother’s home on the coast. I offered that I had driven the route many times over the years, as I tried to visit her at least four times a year. He chatted with me about my mother and her home on the coast, then wrote me a ticket for going 8 mph over the speed limit, telling me to look for the new speed limit change on my next trip.