I mentioned earlier how the public was not happy with anybody other than ''Traffic'' being involved in a traffic situation. The following will illustrate what I referred to, as well as some of the ''nuts'' we meet everywhere.

I stopped a truck, which had more than enough mechanical problems. I wrote the driver a ticket and told him he would be notified when to appear in court. When the summons was ready, I noted the address where he lived was miles back in the hills, although he kept the truck near the main road. As there was no road into the village I asked a member of the Mounted division to serve the summons for me, which we were authorized to do.

About four hours later, as I was relaxing and getting ready for dinner there was a commotion outside and I was sent for. It would appear the accused had refused to accept the summons from anybody but "Traffic". Whereupon the Mounted policeman had tied his hands together with a piece of rope attached to his saddle horn and proceeded to half drag the unfortunate to the station. Needless to say there was a hell of a hullabaloo.

The Mucktar of the village, who had followed with his retainers, was more indignant that the wrong person had tried to issue the summons than with the treatment of the accused. I invited all into our dining room and had coffee served. Since I was unsuccessful in explaining that every police officer had the right to serve a summons, I took the damn summons and handed it to the accused, which he accepted with thanks, and everybody took their leave feeling vindicated.

The news got around and there was an inquiry. The idiot of a mounted policeman was ordered to do desk duty for the remainder of his term. I remarked as to what they could expect from a section that had ordered the wrong size horses. (I must add here that the majority of the Mounted Division Men were an excellent group who thought the world of their mounts. They would spend hours grooming and petting them and, in a large number of cases, when the police force was about to be disbanded bought their horses and had them humanely killed rather than leave them to the extremely hard life they would be subjected too at the hands of the Arabs, to be used to pull ploughs through very heavy soil and possibly not be given the nutritious food they were used to.)

One instance I remember with amusement. On leaving a barber shop, I noticed a brand new large U.S.A. station wagon, it's proud owner was expounding it's virtues, the beautiful two tone, the horsepower, to a group. I was using my smaller 350 hp bike and as I passed on the way to it I overheard the owner tell his audience that not even Traffic could stop him if he did not wish to stop.

As this was said for my benefit I felt a rebuff was necessary. I said I was confident I could stop him no matter what he was driving. I assured him if I could not stop him within a half a mile I would have to agree with him. I sat on the bicycle and invited him to get going. He had a big grin on his face as he went towards his car and just as he was about to get in, I drew my revolver and cocked it. The grin left his face and he asked what I was about to do. I told him I said I could stop him not catch him. For some reason he decided to renege on his boast. I still wonder what I would have done if he had taken off.