Went out and about the other nite bout 2am to test out the new bike mods. Just cleared the last of the city on a 45mph road so I gagged it a little....too much. Looked at the speedo at about 85-90 before lettin off to enjoy a little song of backpressure sang in the tone of 4 into 1 composed by someone called megaphone. My bliss was rattled somewhat by headlights flickin on, that looked a little 'fordish' to me, coming from a car parked somewhere a little too 'darkish', and borderline 'hiddenish'. I kinda like that last one. It reminds me that college was a long time ago. I scooted past our neighboring counties sheriff while he threw it in gear and flipped all those switches of his and pulled in behind to hear that song that I was just listening to. I let him hear it from verse 5 all the way down to 1, then a nice coast in neutral while my fluids leveled out a bit. I already knew I was gonna get the ticket, but its been over a decade since I got one and I was feelin a little 'prickish'. Another good one. We went through our individual routines before the initial conversation, him turning on more lights, me adjusting the leathers and wondering why I didnt add xtra layers for the important parts not covered by the chaps, him struttin up behind me all impossing like, me leaning around to make sure I tied my demon bells back on securely...etc. I was feeling a little bold. Hell, I was happy with myself. My new Pingel Guzzler did what I asked it to do and I believe this was the first time Ive been pulled over and known I wasnt gettin another DWI and goin to jail. Those days have past. His question was wheres the fire son? As for the fire, I told him I was just blowin off the dust a little, but that son comment stuck in the craw somewhat. He says he got me doin 74 in a 45 and I smilled a bit as I handed off my license, trying my best not to say what I was thinkin. Is that all? Im 1 braincell above that comment. He ducks back in his car for a few to run my numbers and get icing on my paperwork while I continue to look over the bike under his lighting. I believe at 2am he had more halogen on it than I did back in the garage, in the daytime. Anyway, he comes back and offers his friendship by saying, "Son, Im going to cut you one hell of a break". Theres that son again. "Anything over 25 over and you have to be in court so I wrote it for 69 instead". Thats cool, that one of my favorite numbers. I didnt tell him that either. He hands me his ticket board to sign my name and as Im lookin it over before I sign he says, "Now son, you think youll be doing this again?" Strike 3 with the son. I take my time with the signature and also to give myself the time to remove all the profanity from my comment to come, then hand him his clipboard and smiled and said "O absolutely." His face still makes me chuckle. He did cut me a break by droppin the speed a little, but after me backtalkin him and 'gettin away with it', I wonder how many more charges he could have written me before I got myself zippered and helmeted? Next time I think Ill only lift the shield a little.
Anyone else got a little cop humor?
Now back to the other project, which wall of the garage is gonna get covered by a SOHC mural...
