Try to get police officers and union representatives to talk about PBA cards, and they clam up faster than a felony suspect who wants his attorney.

They’re closely guarded secrets, those get-out-of-a-jam-free cards that well-connected drivers carry in their wallets, waiting for the right time to spring them — which is usually when red lights are flashing in their rearview mirrors as they hustle to their kids’ soccer games.

Look, nothing is as good for skirting the law as a 120-mph state trooper escort, but the cards have been part of policing for a long time. “I go back 40 years and they’ve been around as far back as I can remember,” said Wayne Fisher, director of the Police Institute at Rutgers University. “I’m sure they go back a lot further than that.”

For roughly 20 years, I’ve had a silver lifetime PBA card and I’ve never used it. It was awarded to me — a surprise honor at a Policemen’s Benevolent Association dinner — because in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I annually donated money toward bulletproof vests for rookie cops.

At least a half-dozen times since then (okay, more like a dozen), I’ve been pulled over for speeding tickets or a warning. Once, when I tried to beat a speeding ticket in court, a state trooper testified he wasn’t sure if, when my car rocketed past, he had heard a backfire or sonic boom.

Putting aside whether the cards are ethical — that is, should family members and friends of cops get a motor-vehicle hall pass? — I’ve always wondered: Do these things actually work?

So, I pressed some police officers I know: “Do they? Really?”

The response: Click.

I called patrolmen (click). Detectives (click). Sergeants (click). Lieutenants (click). Captains (click). Deputy chiefs (click). Police chiefs (click). I tried to get comment from state PBA president Anthony Wieners (crickets). It’s a sensitive subject.

A few cops took my call — then took the Fifth.

“Nobody wants to go on the record about this,” one officer said. “People read this, and they get upset and start screaming about special privileges. It’s not good publicity.”

Eventually, three active police officers and one former police chief provided the lowdown in exchange for anonymity.

The bottom line: I should’ve been wearing that silver card around my neck, for Pete’s sake. Turns out, the silver card can be a silver bullet. It’s the highest PBA honor paid to an average citizen and most cops probably would have honored it. The card would’ve saved me hundreds in fines and insurance surcharges if I’d had the inclination to play it.

But that’s a shiny, engraved hunk of precious metal awarded ceremoniously in front of hundreds of cops and spouses. (They come in gold, too — for police and family members.) What about that piece of cardboard (or plastic), signed by a local cop, in your wallet? Here’s how it works:

In most towns, each PBA member gets 10 cards to sign and distribute. When pulled over for a minor motor vehicle offense, the cardholder has the option to show it to an officer, who then decides whether to honor it. Into that decision go several factors:

• Is the town that issued the card nearby? (A Bloomfield cop might not honor an Egg Harbor Township card.)

• Is there a feud between the department that issued your card and the one about to ticket you?

• Is the cop who pulled you over angry because his cards haven’t been honored in other towns?

• And, is the officer who signed your card now dating the ex-wife of the cop about to ticket you?

A BIT OF HELP

In the end, the consensus seems to be that courtesy cards still help, but they’re not as effective as they were years ago.

“They used to work a lot more than they do now,” one veteran officer said. “Younger cops these days don’t honor anything. They’re so regimented. They see everything as black and white. Unfortunately, there’s not as much camaraderie in the departments these days.

“If someone showed me a PBA card, I probably wouldn’t write a ticket if it wasn’t a bad offense,” he added. “I’d take the card and call the officer (who issued it) and tell them what happened. They’d know I honored the card, but I took it away. I’d let him know that person had used up his freebie.”

Unanimously, the cops said the card won’t get a driver out of a serious offense — drunken driving, for instance. Speeding? Probably, unless the driver is racing past a playground or driving excessively fast. Texting or talking on a cell phone? It’s 50-50. Rolling through a stop sign? Maybe. Passing a school bus? Uh, no.

Another factor working against cardholders: There are dozens of flavors in circulation — issued by local PBAs, the Fraternal Order of Police, New Jersey State Association of Chiefs of Police, Italian American Police Society of New Jersey, county sheriffs departments ... and on and on. Some cards are fakes, some can be bought on eBay. So, PBA members are more likely to honor a PBA card; FOP cops prize FOP cards more highly.

One more complication: Cameras in police cars now record when cops let citizens slide. It could come back to haunt them, so they might be less likely to look the other way.

MORE MARKERS

PBA (or FOP) cards aren’t the only supposed magic wands.

Law enforcement license plates — signified by the LE — purchased through the state aren’t likely to help, though the money for the plate goes toward a good cause — scholarships for children of fallen officers. Money for PBA and FOP plates goes to the state.

Police union shields, usually displayed in the vehicle’s rear window, are effective because they’re given to immediate family members. Each cop gets three. Some, however, don’t use them.

“They can make you a target,” one officer said. “Some drunk comes stumbling out of a bar, sees the shield and he’s mad because he got a ticket last week. So, he smashes the windshield.”

Sometimes. culprits break a window and swipe the shield to sell or use it.

You can buy almost anything on eBay — and that includes police courtesy cards and more. For this piece, I bought a blank Maplewood police family member card for $65. Maplewood police brass refused to comment on its authenticity.

The seller also offered business cards from prosecutors in the state Attorney General’s Office and select New Jersey mayors. The items are promoted as “collectibles,” but the implication is clear: They can help you beat a rap.

Joseph Buttich, working in the New Jersey Office of Homeland Security and Preparedeness, was amused to know his old business card was being hawked.

“What’s my title on the card?” Buttich asked.

State investigator with the state Attorney General’s Office, he was told.

“A hundred years ago,” he said.

Fisher believes most of these items “don’t carry any juice.”

But if I get pulled over?

“If you have a legitimate card from a legitimate police organization, go ahead and pull it out,” Fisher said.

“You’d be silly not to try. Give it a shot. But be ready to pay the fine.”