One sweaty moment upon a freeway pulloff

The false glasses rested low on his slightly sweaty nose as he continued up the freeway stretches he knew so well in the tiny yellow rental car that had been selected for him by his connections out of pure necessity. He usually selected a rental car with a trunk, but this time the planning and timing had gone awry. At least that is what his partner had said when he skidded up next to him in a pull off next to a freeway just outside the farm where he made his pick-ups.
"I cant put three hockey bags full of weed into a hatchback, dude!" He had expressed frustratedly to his cohort in this operation.
"Thing is man, there are no other cars that can go out of town at the rental place until Tuesday, so this little bumble bee looking motherfucker is all you!" The stocky, new age hippy type had said, chuckling as he climbed out of the pregnant roller skate of a car.
Remembering the occurrences of the weekend and going over the numbers and potential numbers in his head, he continued along his route, just slightly over the speed limit so as not to appear overly cautious, but also not to attract the unwanted attention of the state patrol. His shirt was long sleeve intending to cover up the tattoos he had up and down his arms in a continued effort to thwart unwanted attention. He looked down at the stereo to change the channel, as all that was coming in seemed to be preachers and politicians going on about the most depressing thoughts, when he looked up the last thing on earth he wanted to see was staring at him in the rear view mirror.
Red and blue lights flashed back and forth in the grill of the land shark coming swiftly from behind.
His mind started reeling with the entire scenario. There were two hockey bags and a duffel bag full in the hatchback. That meant 35 pounds in each hockey bag, and about 15 in the duffel bag...so 85 pounds. FUCK. People go to prison for much less! Then he thought, it's ok, we took the time to turkey bag every thing and there are plenty of dryer sheets...there should be no smell. Just get through this...Just. Get. Through. This.
What seemed like an eternity passed by as he pulled into the gravel patch on the side of the freeway. Cars whizzed passed and he couldn't help but to think that those may be some of the last sounds of true freedom he may hear for quite a while. The trooper that got out could have easily been the poster boy for cops. Tight cropped hair, vest with a mulitude of utility items, aviator glasses, freshly shined, Police issue, Danner boots, and an attitude that says "Women have always hated me, but now I have the power.". As the officer sized up the scenario getting ever closer, the driver pulled his license out of his wallet, wiped the sweat from his brow to hide the intensity of his sudden onset fear, and thought to himself  "ok. Here we go" ........