It also helps to be older and have grey hair.
First sign of old age it is when you realize how young law enforcement
looks...
Tucked in a fetal ball and rolling it on I exit the on ramp and merge
into the fast lane quick as a bunny. Of course this being routinely
patrolled I-80 sure enough comes lights and siren of a CHP Stang... In
response to the WOO WOO myself and 4 lanes of cagers jockey towards
the shoulder as a unified horde of guilty perpetrators. The bumper
bull horn points to trouble "RC45 pull over". first I think cool, he's
savoy but then nope that’s my personal plate.
Unexpectedly just before we roll to a stop he shoots pass me sideways
in a full lock side throwing up one hell of a cloud of dust. I gather
this maneuver is an effort to block any avenue of escape. I stop and
kill the engine raising my hands away from the bars. Whoa partner, I'm
not about to pull a fast one and run, if I play I will pay. Our
vehicles are at rest, the dust settles, he exits in hurry thumbing the
hurt book...
He makes no request for helmet removal or even a flip of the visor. in a
beautiful drill Sergeant voice he commands.
"Son, your license please"...
"Yes sir" I affirm. reaching in the top pocket of my Italian leathers.
His face drops and his demeanor shifts from Son to Sir as he
realizes my birth year of 1948 adds 30 years of seniority...
In a voice a few octaves higher. "Sir"... "you never know who you
are stopping out here" he pleads clearing his throat...
"Yes sir, you never know, I jest. "I might know your mom."
With a smile he parts with these words "I handled my bike well, I
stabilized with the flow of traffic, I pulled over and didn't run,
have a nice day and be careful Mr.Lovisone"
No Ticket no trouble...