Well my luck just ran out today...

Last week I got off work early, at around 1am instead of my usual 6am.  The ride home was so beautiful that I just stayed out for a while to cruise around town for a bit.  I got stopped twice for doing slightly more than 10mph over the limit.  Luckily neither officer saw me just a few seconds earlier smoking the tire across the intersection.  Both times they were sitting in parking lots about mid-block and I had been on the slowdown side of a stoplight launch.  And both times the officers were just full of comments and questions about Max.  Needless to say, after the second "Just slow it down" warning, I decided it was time to behave myself and go home.

Today I had to go in to work for a meeting.  I could have called in to the meeting but I wanted the ride anyway so I threw on the gear and hit the freeway.

I did my usual 85mph until I got away from the city limits and wound Max up to ~95mph like I always do.  The freeway was clear and the temps were in the upper 70s so it was just a great day for a ride.  That is until about 10 miles later when Mr. Highway Patrolman was sitting in the median behind some mesquite trees.  I glanced at the speedo and saw 97.  My first thought was 'Shhhhucks", or something similar.  I waved politely and started slowing down so he wouldn't have to work so hard to catch up.  I'll admit that I did have the urge to nail it and leave him in the dust because my exit was just 2 miles away.  He would never have gotten close.  I figure that would have been a big mistake so I pulled over when he finally got up behind me and hit the lights.

Mr. Patrolman walks up; looks over the bike with a big smile on his face, and the usual words come out, "Nice bike!"  And of course I thanked him.  Then he said, "But back to business...90!  You know how dangerous that is?"  To which I replied, "I imagine that could be dangerous sir."  (Never admit guilt)  At that point I was VERY grateful for the inaccuracy of the speedo.  He said, "You know I gotta give you a ticket for that so hop on off and come back to the car for the paperwork."  I climbed off Max and walked back to the car.  He keeps glancing back at the bike and making comments and asking questions.  “Man I love that blacked out look.” "How long have you had it?" "How much do those things run?" "How fast does it go?"  I answered honestly and said, "They are governed at 147mph."  He asked, "Ever had her up that fast?"  I thought for a second and said politely, "I believe the correct answer would be No Sir."  He laughed and said, "Good answer."  He asked if I'd ever had it on the track and I replied that my wife wouldn't let me because she thought it was too dangerous.  He laughed again and told me, "But it is actually so much safer at the track."  "I KNOW! My wife doesn't ever believe me when I tell her that," I said.

Well anyway, after about 15 minutes of standing there talking about our riding history and everything else motorcycle, he handed me a ticket for doing 90 in a 75.  Then he patted me on the back and said, "Ride safe and please TRY to keep it a little closer to the speed limit."  I smiled and said, "I'll try sir but it’s going to be hard."  He laughed, stepped back, and looked at Max again.  He was shaking his head and I heard him say "Just Awesome" as I was slipping my helmet back on.  Then I was back on my way to my meeting, which I COULD have called in for.

And Yes, I struggled to keep the speed down to around 80~85.  I didn't do very well though.

Defensive driving class here I come!