Well I've to admit I've been quite lucky with the old boys in blue since the days of my provisional back in 89. MInd you, the only thing they were going to hassle me for was how slow my 50 went!!! 45 minutes one day to do a 15 mile journey cos the bloody wind was against me. I didn't care, my bike had fancy bits on it like a locking petrol cap and alloy wheels
Funny thing was, I plodded around on L plates for two years (back when the days were simple with licences) and I never heard a peep from the police. I passed my car test and was able to take off the L plate off my 50cc (I never did understand that rule). Hopped onto a DT 125, L plate back on and happy days. Decided to take my test in 91 (can I be sad here and say exactly what date I took the test?? Nah, better not) and bam, within a fortnight, pulled over because "I was a big lad who looked liked he had borrowed his mates bike" His words exactly, I have a great memory. I wasn't doing anything wrong but he saw something that he deemed suspicious and acted upon it. Anyway, he knew I was being genuine so it was just a case of produce my documents within seven days. Didn't stop me shaking like a leaf at being stopped, I was Mr Squeaky clean, Mr Wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-goose, I was ridiculed at school for years at how squeaky I was! I knew I was going to get pulled that day as I saw the bike speed up behind me and in my rear view mirror I could see his 'tache, next thing nip round and wave his hand for me to stop. No need for sirens or lights, he sensed I was a wimp.
Within a week, said police bike is in my rear view mirror again, there's that bloody 'tache poking out just over the bottom of his lid, there he goes round me, arm waved, over we go.
Fortunately he remembered me and why he pulled me in the first place and he went on chatting about bikes and road safety. Only thing was, back in 91, I wasn't into bikes as such as they were just a means of getting to my part time job and college and I also couldn't stop staring at two things. Firstly, his moustache was magnificent. Not in a gay way, but you've got to remember that the 80's weren't far behind and Magnum P.I. was fresh in peoples minds. Oh yes, I wanted to grow a tache when I could. At that moment in time I had some wispy strands on my top lip so that level of bushy stardom was many a year away. Second big distraction was the flip front helmet. What an invention, why don't they make these available to the general public? I wore glasses in those days so what a blessing a flip front would have been. I say glasses but back then it was more like a prescription windscreen for your face as you didn't exactly have the choice of designer frames there are now. My lens thickness was the thickness of someone who had a corrective heel for club foot. The choice was "tit" or "geek". I always went geek, seemed cooler for some reason.
Anyway we said our farewells and he advised me to carry my license with me in case other officers stopped me so that was three things to remember when leaving the house. 1 - £2.00 emergency petrol money, 2 - 10p emergency phone call money and now my license.
Fortunately, I was only stopped once after that and it wasn't even Tom Selleck that did it.
Bizarrely, when I had my L plates on, the Dt carried many an appropriate thing. I've had golf clubs down the front and rear of my Belstaff jacket for Christmas presents. I've had an empty plastic five gallong drum flapping on the back of my rack for my Dad. He was into home brew and I washed up in a restaurant. Snooker cues width ways on the rear, you name it, the DT hauled it about. Never stopped once. Go figure
Fast forward many a year when I'm now discovering the fun of four strokes and a CBR 400 graces my garage. well, my parent's garage. It's been sat a while so I've given it a good charge and decide to take it for a spin around the town centre as nothing else was interesting that night. First set of lights and I've got a pr1ck up my backside in a Sierra Cosworth. Each set of lights up my backside beckoning me on. If I could have signed "yes I know they're called baby blades but I bought it because it has a large petrol tank and all my work gear fits into the tank bag, thats why I ride it" I would have. Needless to say I couldn't. Mr Squeaky Clean shot off from the lights leaving Mr Cossie in the distance, hitting around 45 before changing to 2nd. Mr Squeaky became Mr Smug. But Mr Smug, in his haste, had just done 45 ........ in a 30 zone ........... passed the Lancaster Police Station ........... where an eager young police woman in her Ford Fiesta had spotted him. Mr Smug stomach sank when the whole of the high street lit up with blue lights on the other side of the town centre. Bugger I said to myself, still clinging to some pride that it had taken a 1.3 petrol Fiesta two thirds of the town centre to catch me. Oh how quick the pride disappeared, along with my manliness. Even my rugged goatee which was now proudly on my face couldn't stop the image in my head on kneeling down and clawing at her trouser leg beggin "don't book me, don't book me" as my Dad had a clean licence and this would have been a slur on the family name. It wasn't just me who was squeaky, we all were. To me surprise, she got out of the car with a bit of a grin on her face and her question was "do you know why I stopped you?" Now I'm a sarcastic chap and quite shy so I always use humour to get me through situations. I didn't think it was appropriate this time. I told her the truth that all I wanted was a nice casual ride to put a bit of zing back into the battery and this git had been goading me all this time. Said tit casually drove passed me at this point and I think he was practising for a coffee advert as he was shaking his hand in a funny way out of the window as he passed me. She then asked me if I knew what the speed limit was around twon and didn't care about Said Tit. DO I KNOW?? How dare she, doesn't she know that Mr Squeaky is also Mr Highway Code and I dare say my knowledge was better than hers (probably). Much like the sarcastic humour, I kept that to myself. Then to my surprise, she said "slow it down, I've booked too many bikers lately." I was gob smacked, how nice of her. It was only in later life that I learnt that unless theres two officers in the car of the car is fitted with video equipment, they can't do squat. Needless to say, it did teach me about controlling my speed, especially when passing police stations.
So nothing has happened to me in 15 years now despite the fact that I now ride as fast as the road will allow or as fast as the car in front. I'm well aware that if I do get pulled, my fault, no one to blame but I will say this about another 15 years of biking, it has taught me to have eyes in the back of my head