A police officer pulled over a minivan that was crawling along the road at just 25 miles per hour, causing quite the backup in mid-day traffic.

Inside was an elderly gentleman behind the wheel, and a group of older ladies sitting silently, looking like statues—wide-eyed and clutching their purses for dear life.
The officer leaned in and asked, “Sir, is there a reason you’re driving so slowly?”
The man replied, “Well, officer, I’m just following the speed limit. The sign back there said 25!”
Trying not to chuckle, the officer shook his head. “Sir, that’s not the speed limit—that’s the highway number. You’re on Route 25. The speed limit here is 65.”
“Oh!” said the old man, eyes wide. “Well that explains a lot…”
The officer glanced around the van and noticed the elderly passengers looking extremely tense—stiff as boards and pale as ghosts.
He leaned in again. “Is everyone okay? The ladies look… a little shaken.”
The driver scratched his head awkwardly and said, “Well, officer… we just got off Highway 150.”