Winner Takes All

In Poltava between the two neighborhoods have a section of the road without traffic lights. Seven to eight hundred meters. At this uchastochke people tend to slightly accelerate. It is clear, ladies and gentlemen, fixing this thing graze there permanently. People flashes warns, but still someone constantly catch.
And here goes once home evening people. On the post-ambush knows not the first time this way it should. But, you see, thought. Inhibits its sort of a meter with a cap.
What happened?
-Prevysili.
-Don't Be.
-Please. Eighty-two.
Starts whining on duty in the spirit of "Comrade Sergeant, that there is only a two kilometer" what should be a reasonable answer, "Well, not two, but twenty-two. you know, all that up to eighty - yours, and then, sorry - ours. " Just a couple of minutes inconclusive whining. People have already adjusted to the venue settles, when the valiant guard the road all the time not to release the radar of the hands, suddenly changing in the face, waving his wand, and thirty meters from them stops "gelding". Sergeant hefted the documents hands of their owners and outputs:
Okay, hold. He won. He has ninety-eight.