They’re out there, right now, breaking the law. And God help anyone who gets in their way.

Drug dealers from away?

Nope.

Phantom voters who cast ballots here, there and everywhere in last month’s election?

Nope.

I’m talking speed demons. Which means, in all likelihood, I’m talking about you.

It all started with an enlightening report in Thursday’s Portland Press Herald by Staff Writer Kate McCormick.

Her analysis showed that crashes on Interstate 295 between Falmouth and Gardiner jumped a whopping 32 percent in 2015 after the state raised the speed limit along that stretch of highway from 65 to 70 mph.

The rolling demolition derby, expected to be even worse this year, was attributed to several factors – more cars on the road and less room between cars, to name a couple.

But as research clearly shows, the most obvious problem here is that increased speed limits are like the minimum bid in an auction – you no sooner set it and everyone flies right past it.

Don’t believe me? Let’s go for a ride.

Early Thursday afternoon, I got on I-295 at its southernmost point – the Maine Turnpike exit toll in Scarborough – and drove the highway’s entire 52-mile length with my cruise control set exactly at the speed limit.

Then, after a quick hot dog at the service plaza in West Gardiner (the nitrates help me focus), I drove all the way back to Scarborough.

All told, 188 vehicles passed me. I, on the other hand, passed two.

Make no mistake about it. This was hazardous duty – starting with Portland, where the speed limit drops from 55 to 50 mph between the Fore River and Tukey’s Bridge.

You didn’t know that? Trust me, you’re far from alone.

Doggedly clinging to my newfound self-righteousness, I realized for the first time why all those little old ladies always look so terrified as they plunk along past downtown Portland at 50 mph.

Cars, pickups and even towering tractor-trailers quickly backed up behind me, all impatiently waiting their turn to lurch left into an already crowded passing lane, zoom past me and lurch back to the right before leaving me in their dust.

And the dirty looks? If I had a nickel for each one, I’d have more than covered the cost of my gas.

North of Portland, where the speed limit suddenly spikes from 50 to 70 mph, I was at least spared the public shaming. But the pedal-to-the-metal parade continued unabated.

A guy in a flatbed tow truck, with a Volvo station wagon on the back, careened by at what must have been at least 78 mph. He went on to pass a gasoline tank truck – the same one that had already passed me.

Watching the tow truck pass the gasoline truck, I thought, “Hmm … one false move and we’re all on tonight’s network news!”

Then there was the sporty black Lexus that appeared out of nowhere in my rear-view mirror near Bowdoinham, approaching at well north of 80 mph.

I thought it was going to hit me when, suddenly, the left blinker went on. I glanced over just in time to see a young woman with a cellphone in her left hand and the steering wheel in her right.

Then the right blinker went on as she cut back in front of me and went on her blurry way.

I gave her points for at least using her turn signal. But then I thought, “Wait a minute … if her left hand held the cellphone to her ear and her right hand was on the wheel, how the hell did she do the blinker?”

Which brings us to the first car I had to pass – a northbound Ford Focus around Brunswick slogging somewhere between 50 and 55 in the 70 mph zone. And I thought I was the slow one.

Again it was a young woman. Again she was gabbing away on her cellphone, oblivious to both me and, I assume, the Wal-Mart tractor-trailer that rumbled by her right after I did.

My point: Driving too far over the speed limit can get you killed. But so can driving too far under it.

This was not news to Ted Talbot, spokesman for the Maine Department of Transportation, who told me Friday that the speed limit is theoretically set to reflect how fast 85 percent of the driving public goes on a given stretch of roadway.

That’s why the bulk of I-295 was bumped up to 70 mph in May of 2014, Talbot said. It’s also why state transportation officials are hard at work looking for ways to stem the mayhem that followed.

But even Talbot concedes there’s only so much the state can do.

“We can put up all the signs and flashing lights in the world,” he said. “But at some point, responsibility also rests with the driver.”

Talbot also referred me to the Maine Department of Public Safety, where spokesman Steve McCausland first congratulated me on being the only “old fart” out there on I-295 between 1 and 3 p.m. on Thursday.

(Actually, I wasn’t. The only other driver I passed, heading into a blinding sun just past the Royal River in Yarmouth, was an old fart just like me.)

My question for McCausland: When state police set up a speed trap (I saw one in Topsham), exactly where do they draw the line on when to give chase and when to, shall we say, let it slide?

“There is no number,” replied McCausland, referring to the myth that anything less than 10 mph over the speed limit – wink-wink – won’t trigger the flashing blue lights.

“Troopers use discretion when stopping vehicles,” he said. “That not only concerns the speed a vehicle is traveling, but also whether to issue a summons or a warning.”

Meaning deterrence, when it comes to the single-most ignored law in American society, is in the eye of the deterred.

One last thing about my road trip. Right around the time the 188th vehicle blew my doors off back in Scarborough, a stunning rainbow appeared directly over the highway.

I marveled at the perfect, colorful arch. I took it as a hard-earned reward for my socially responsible driving, my courage in refusing to go with the flow, my good citizenship in the face of so much lawlessness.

Or not. Basking in self-congratulation as the turnpike toll barrier approached, I looked down proudly at my speedometer, stilled glued to 55.

In the 35 mph zone.

Damn that pretty rainbow.