Canadian, Are You?

A local state highway to be sure
but a fluctuating speed limit, surely odd.
A defined destination and certain 
specific direction equate to a highway
passing commercial outlets interspersing
endless forest vistas for this is a state
famed for its magnificent geology
a treasured mountain range and
endless forests and rivers. In the
space-time of a half-hour drive
cautions in signage leap-frogging 
from 55mph  to 35 to 45mph. Law
abiding, you comply, then note
oncoming traffic at the speed you had
reduced from, and behind you a long
line of backed-up vehicles. The rear-view
mirror notes a police car lights blazing
cutting the line, signalling pull over.
Can I see your license, your registration.
A report sir, just checking no medical
distress problem, no alcohol, no drugs
sir. And it dawns those other motorists
routinely ignore posted speed limits
on that stretch, a political game the
incumbent plays to garner votes that
other locals choose to flout; yes sir.