Last Updated on July 8, 2014 by Roff Graves

It was in the early 1960s—Racist problems and tension galore in our country. California had its share. I was a young California Highway Patrol Officer working in the San Leandro Squad. I loved working the Altamont Pass on Highway 50 between Livermore and Tracy. I was sitting on top of the pass when I saw a black car almost flying Eastbound toward Tracy. I took pursuit and caught the car just west of Tracy. I had clocked it at about 120MPH.
I was totally alone and 4 African American young men were in the car, I radioed my position but no help was near. I got out of the CHP Unit, racked my shotgun and approached the driver. The driver had his window down and was holding his drivers license in his left hand. He had a big smile on his face as he said to me, “I won my bet. I told them this car would do 110. I won!” I couldn’t help but smile back at him. I wrote him a ticket. He said, “You are not taking me in?” I told him, “No, just sign the ticket” I wrote it for 70 MPH (speed limit was 65 MPH ). He was shocked. He asked if he could shake my hand. I will never forget that stop!

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