This may be hijacking the thread, but this reminded me of a story... Many years ago, when I was still riding my GS-650E, I had to take it in for maintenance. Now the dealer was about 30 miles in the opposite direction from my work, and I worked nights. Well, the mechanic (and I use the term LOOSELY) stripped out my oil drain plug in the pan and had to helicoil it. He also broke off an exhaust stud and had to replace it. Meanwhile it's getting later, and later and I'm getting real nervous that I'm going to be late for work. Well, as I'm pacing the showroom floor, in comes a California Highway Patrol officer and I'm surprise to see that it's a guy that is in my Navy Reserve Unit. Well we talk a bit, he's in on his break checking out new Suzuki's and I tell him all about my misfortunes at the hands of the ham-handed mechanic. Well, the last thing he tells me as he's leaving is..."Remember, Don't speed, getting to work". Well 20 min. later I get my bike back and I'm off like a bat outa hell. I'm flying down Interstate 80, stretched out over the tank like a second coat of paint. I don't know how fast I'm going as it's got those stupid speedos that only went to 85. As I flash under a overpass, I pass a CHP black and white sitting parked under the overpass. All I saw before it was past me was a head, jerk upright, then sadly shake as it returned to his paperwork... Figguring "In for a penny, in for a pound" I kept going. Never saw any lights and made it to work just barely on time.
The following month when I went to my Naval Reserve drill, I got a butt reaming like never before. Oh, BTW, I never went back to that stupid dealer either.
