Mind over matter... or something
Much else is going on in my life that is exciting and interesting, but I thought I'd share this interesting little tidbit with you (if anybody's reading):
I rode my motorcycle to work today. It's a shiny almost-new cobalt blue Suzuki SV650. I love it.
So I'm riding along, minding my own business, following behind two school buses and a small line of cars. My bike is registered, inspected, insured, completely non-suspicious-looking. I'm going slowly, obviously, as I'm behind two schoolbuses, and following at a very safe distance. I think to myself, "Would it be just hilarious if I got pulled over right now?" About 30 seconds later, as if my thought had called it into being, a cop passes going the other way, and immediately turns around and pulls me over in a guard-railed section around a corner where it's really not that safe to pull over, but I do anyway. He gets out of the car and walks up to the bike. I flip up my visor and say, "What's up, officer?"
He says, "Uh... I uh... well, I.... ", rather confused, and then he suddenly points to my license plate, settling on something seemingly at random. "I couldn't see the oh-five on your license plate so I had to pull you over and make sure everything checked out."
"Oh, OK," I say, laughing internally. "I knew I couldn't be speeding, following two schoolbusses and all."
"Actually, he was speeding." Really? I hadn't noticed.
"Do you want to see my registration?"
"Ah no sir, that's OK," he says, looking my bike up and down, "I'm going to assume everything is fine. I assume you have insurance."
"Yes, would you like to see it?" The cop is looking at the beautiful welds in the aluminum of my external ladder frame. Intently.
"Ah no, that's OK, sir. Do you have your license on you?"
I dig in my back pocket under my wind pants, pull out my wallet, and produce my license. He looks at it rather cursorily and hands it back to me, still looking at my bike, not at me. "Ok sir, you're all set, you have a good day."
Huh.
I rode my motorcycle to work today. It's a shiny almost-new cobalt blue Suzuki SV650. I love it.
So I'm riding along, minding my own business, following behind two school buses and a small line of cars. My bike is registered, inspected, insured, completely non-suspicious-looking. I'm going slowly, obviously, as I'm behind two schoolbuses, and following at a very safe distance. I think to myself, "Would it be just hilarious if I got pulled over right now?" About 30 seconds later, as if my thought had called it into being, a cop passes going the other way, and immediately turns around and pulls me over in a guard-railed section around a corner where it's really not that safe to pull over, but I do anyway. He gets out of the car and walks up to the bike. I flip up my visor and say, "What's up, officer?"
He says, "Uh... I uh... well, I.... ", rather confused, and then he suddenly points to my license plate, settling on something seemingly at random. "I couldn't see the oh-five on your license plate so I had to pull you over and make sure everything checked out."
"Oh, OK," I say, laughing internally. "I knew I couldn't be speeding, following two schoolbusses and all."
"Actually, he was speeding." Really? I hadn't noticed.
"Do you want to see my registration?"
"Ah no sir, that's OK," he says, looking my bike up and down, "I'm going to assume everything is fine. I assume you have insurance."
"Yes, would you like to see it?" The cop is looking at the beautiful welds in the aluminum of my external ladder frame. Intently.
"Ah no, that's OK, sir. Do you have your license on you?"
I dig in my back pocket under my wind pants, pull out my wallet, and produce my license. He looks at it rather cursorily and hands it back to me, still looking at my bike, not at me. "Ok sir, you're all set, you have a good day."
Huh.