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Fall of 93, I'm headed from eastern Mississippi to north Georgia (Helen) to link up with some friends for a full weekend of fast two-wheeled fun in the Georgia mountains. I was on a 89 BMW
R100RS - Sport Tourer ( mostly Sport), a wonderful machine but not ideal for my 6'1 frame. By the time I hit Atlanta, my buttocks were screaming and knees required constant stretching - all while running north. I cleared Atlanta around 10:00 p.m., moving rapidly thru the country on state and county two and four lanes. In an effort to keep myself awake, I was rolling on and rolling off the throttle. Visibility clear, little to no traffic, speeds ran from 65 - 125. I cleared another small town, paying close attention to the legal limit. Once cleared, I rolled back on, moving rapidly up to "go to jail speeds". I noticed headlights in my mirrors, slowed down and watched them for a few minutes before jacking the speed back up. Slow down, speed up, this went on for twenty minutes or so. Finally, the car behind me sped up and confirmed what I afraid of - blue lights, full siren - the works. I immediately hit the turn indicator, pulled over, helmet off, hands on the handle bar. In a way I was glad to get stopped as it gave me a chance to get off the bike. Once the police officer (County) got out of his car and sorted out, he started in on me - pat down, questions not intended to be answered, the whole business. After ten minutes of this, the police officer cools down a bit and I think I may actually get out of going to jail this Friday night. During this back & forth, two other Offiers have now showed up, one of them more interested in my two-wheeled Beemer Rocketship. Everything is going well until I open my big mouth without having been asked to do so. The original Officer is now writing a speeding ticket. In the course of determing the highest speed captured on the radar gun, the Officer states that while he was tracking me, he thought I was going to "run off" on him. This is now where I have a complete and total lack of judgment. In response to that, I stated that if I had wanted to run, then we would not be having this conversation....truer words never spoken, but not to that particular moment. As you might imagine, the officer went ape-***** - promising to haul my sorry a** to jail that very night. Thankfully the other two officers are older, wiser, and truly enjoying this moment on a otherwise quiet Friday night. End of story - I did get a ticket ( ouch!) and proceeded on up to Helen for the weekend ride.
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