Wow, I guess it had to happen. After 3,467 days (9.5 years) living in Nicaragua and driving almost every day, sometimes a lot, I finally got a ticket.
Not So Lucky
Thus far I had been able to talk my way out of the many other stops over the years. This time, I had picked up some of the Tsunami Skydivers who had jumped into the fairway of a Nicaragua golf course at Gran Pacifica and was taking them to visit a volcano, Granada and a boat ride on Lake Nicaragua. I passed a bus on a yellow line and there he was. The officer was very polite as was I; but nevertheless, he took my license and gave me a ticket.
The rule here is that the police keep your license and then you have to pay the ticket at a bank. After that, you go pick your license up at the police station. The real bummer is that I was leaving in two days to go the U.S. and I needed my license to rent a car. But the human touch still works here. Pedro called and asked them to hold it in Masaya and he and I went there to pick it up. The system worked like it should have.