Suspect

     We were driving along a scenic country road between Naples, New Hyork and Geneva, returning to our favorite Seneca Lkae.  The weather had held throughout our vacation but the temperatire and humidity were rising to uncomfortable levels.  Cornfields in this secion of New York SDtate are often borred by blue spruce, which seem to be plentiful in that region.  Our pleasureable ointerlude was intyerrupted when Joyce noted a olicecar closely following us.  She pulled over toward rthge narrow shoulder to allow him to pass.  He remain on our tail so she moved back to the center of the lane.  Still he followed.  Again she moved to the right.  He continued to tail us.  Now he put ion his flashers and Joyce pulled over and stopped.  The offic er left his car and came to the window,

     "Do you know why I stopped you?"

     "I have no idea, officer.  Did I do somethiong wrong???" answered.

     "You were driving 40 miles per hour in a 55 mile/hour zone.  Why is that?

     "We were enjoying the scenery, Officer."

     "You were weaving back and forth.  Where were you going?"

    "To Geneva."

     "In whose name is this car registered?

     "Mine," I offered.

     To Joyce he directed, "Give me your license and registration.

    It took a while to remove the license from her wallet until she remembered she had taped it in.
He toook the documents and returned to his where he checked for violations or worse.

     "You're getting cited for driving too slow," I commented.  "Wait till I tell everyone about this."

     In a few minuites he returned the documents and told us we could go on.  We spent the afternoon walking along Seneca Lake.  A few hours later we started back to Nasples and Cannandaigua Lake.
About hlafway there he was again, following us closely.  Now Joyce was really flustered.

     "What do I do now, travel too fast?"

     "We have to turn left ahead," I pointed out.  "Put on your turn signal."

     "She did but with the cop on our tail, she missed the turnoff.

     "Well, now you've signaled one way and gone another."

      The officer made the turn we had missed and we went five miles in the wrong direction before getting back on track.

     "Do you know why he stopped you the first time?"

     "I still have no idea."

    "He thought you were drunk.  This is wine country.  You were going slowly and weaving."