Your Best Cop + Bike Story...

I was on my fz750, 1987, 02:30 am heading down the A1 and having a nice ding dong with a car (i could only see the headlights in my mirrors...) and as I reached the hatfield tunnel, I could then see what car type it was....
A police car.....
We'd touched 140 in places (no traffic at all as it was late) and I honestly had the chills as to what the punishment would be.....
As i knocked off the throttle, they came along side me.
He (the passenger) then held up a board with the words "your headlight is on main beam".
He then waggled his finger at me as he was telling me that I was a very naughty boy and then sped off.
Brilliant and terrifying at the same time.

 

I have had a few close encounters over the years, but my favourites are;
1) I was on a stretch of dual carriage way on my CBR600 in traffic in the outside lane overtaking two lorries. I was alongside the rear lorry when he decided to overtake the lead lorry. I saw that he was pulling out and would push me into the centre barrier so hit the horn. The driver put his hand out of the window, gave me the finger and kept pulling out. At that point the woman in the MR2 ahead of me saw what was happening, and put her foot down pulling in front of the lead lorry to give me room. I dropped a gear and pinned the throttle, by the time I cleared the lead lorry I was breaking the ton, right past the traffic cop on his bike. He was on one of the laybys for police vehicles. He pulled out, put on his lights, and pulled the lorry driver.
2) I was on my way to work, as an archery instructor, riding a very loud RG250 Gamma with an RD350YPVS engine fitted. I was filtering to the front of traffic queues then nailing it from the lights up to about 90 in a 60 limit. Slowing down as I got near to the next set of lights, and doing it all over again. It wasn't until I got to the last set of lights that I noticed the police bike behind me. He followed me for a while, and riding a 350 powervalve with a racing box at 30mph wasn't easy as 30 was just at the bottom of the power band in first. Eventually he pulled me over and told me that he'd been following me through the last 4 sets of lights, and what speed he'd clocked me at. Potentially license losing. He then asked me if I had any excuse. I told him that I was sorry but I was late for work. He then asked me if it was at the Fort as an archery instructor, and when I said yes, he said that he thought that he recognised me. He then asked me if I'd get a slap on the wrist for being late. I said yes. He asked me to hold my hand up, and slapped my wrist with his gloves, and said, "You've got one from me too now, don't do it again."
Very lucky with both of these.

 

An earlier encounter with police , before I had upgraded to the Laverda RGS , on the bike I traded in for it actually.
Late at night I was tootling along at 100 kph on an 80 kph section of two lane freeway in Brisbane.
I passed an on/off ramp a car was parked just outside the lit area on and off ramps were always well lit.
The lights came on and I was pulled.
The bit that will make you grin or laugh out loud is the following.

On the ticket I received
Date of birth wrong , I was born in January 62 , he put July 82 the date of the offence , my licence number and address all good. Got my name spelling Wrong and misspelt the name of the Suburb we were in , HUGE LIT SiIGN not 30 metres away !!! Giving the name of the suburb turn off !!!!
So I paid the ticket , I Was only 20 and it was only my second or possibly third offence . I received an official Notice !


Offence No#$@$&#+ is under review .

It was quashed three weeks later .
I kept that letter and the speeding ticket for many years . Pulling out for a laugh with fellow riders time to time , it got me many friendly pats on the back,laughs and sometimes a drink.

 

1968 at the tender age of 16 on my Tiger Cub I thought it a jolly good idea to race a Black Maria Police van from a set of traffic lights to my home half a mile away down a wide main road. I could hear a loud hailer shouting something inaudible but carried on til my house at which point the big black van pulled up as I stopped to pull into the drive. A very cross and very big policeman strode over and asked me what speed I was doing ... so being rather daft I looked down at my speedometer for the answer which made him even crosser and he said “there’s no point in looking at that now ...you’ve stopped”... “oh yes” says I in agreement. “Where do you live” he says... “here” I says pointing at my parents house who by now were looking horrified as usual out of the window. “Oh“ he says looking surprised as he obviously thought I’d stopped because that’s what he was shouting with his loud hailer ...”Well don’t race me again or I’ll be after you my lad”... and went on his way with his van full of prisoners in the back... I don’t know what speed I got up to or why I even thought it a good idea .... seemed quite reasonable at the time...

 

Not a cop but a county sheriff, the real deal, brown uniform, aviator sunglasses and all.

Summer 1975, girlfriend dropped me off at Anderson’s in Pontiac, Michigan, a huge dealership. Picked up a brand new CB750.

Rather than go directly home, decided to head west to some nice twisty roads. Out in lake country.

Goin’ along good, havin’ fun, then flashing light, pulled over by a county sheriff. ‘Papers please’. Didn’t have a plate yet, just a temp registration taped on the seat - but legal.

Sheriff apologized, didn’t see the paper. Took off the glasses, asked how I liked the 750. Told him it was my first ride. He said he had a 500, liked to get back on these same roads and ‘haul ass’ on his 500. Some bike talk, then he wished me a great day and left.

Yes, it was a great day, new bike, nice ride, headed home to my redhead girlfriend.

Long time ago . . . bike and redhead just a memory.

 

Seems like every police department has one Barney Fife

 

Away back in 1989 or so, I had my bike knocked over as it sat outside my flat. (I was in the pub at the time) The neighbours got the guy's number and called the police. A tired looking sergeant and a well-scrubbed, fresh-faced police cadet attended and asked the usual questions. Then they said that there was not much chance of following it up because...blah blah bladdy blah etc. I sorted the bike myself and put it down to experience (don't leave the bike on the street when you go for a pint)

Then, in 1998, I spotted a motorcycle cop about to give my parked van a fixed penalty notice. I rushed across the street and told him it was my vehicle, at which point he looked me up and down, pointed to the Porsche
Carrera parked in front of me and asked if that was my vehicle. So, sorted out I thought and turned away. Then the cop called me back. "Did you have a blue BMW motorbike that was knocked off it's stand by a hit and run driver..it was in 1989 and the bike was parked outside (and he recited my address at that time) Somewhat taken aback I just nodded. "Ah.." he smiled "...I thought I recognised your face"

He was the police cadet who'd been there with his sergeant, and he said he'd gone for the traffic division as a motorcycle rider after that. Scary, eh

 

After downing a 'few' Kessler's and Carling's @ Hartfield's Bar in Berkeley, I hopped on my B'Ville and headed for the Shady Grove on Dequindre. I got really flying goin east (I think ?) and got pulled over. I was wearing an open faced helmet with a clear visor snapped onto it. Remembering that I must have a good case of wiskey and beer breath, I kept the helmet and face shield on my head. Good Call !! The officer was mad as hell telling me "If he had got a good fix on my speed I would cettainly get a speeding ticket. SLOW DOWN " I went on to the Shady Grove feeling lucky...........

 

Heading to Nantwich from Middlewich in Cheshire in the early 90's on a kawasaki Gt550, just bimbling along in no particular rush, I saw a police car heading in the opposite direction. My dad was in traffic for 20 odd years, so I looked to see if I recognised the driver, which I didn't. Thought no more of it, until I have the blue lights and the siren behind me.

So I pulled over as soon as it was safe to do so, turned the ignition off and put the keys in my pocket.

Plod, "Off the machine sonny" (I'm taller than him, and probably a good ten years older.)"Your headlight is incorrectly adjusted, you were dazzling me". Me "It isn't, let's go down the road to the MOT station and test it shall we?" (knowing full well he's stopped me cos I looked at him)

So, he leans over and pushes the indicator switch. "Your indicators don't work!" At which I put my hand in my pocket pull out the keys and jangle them at him.

"Your front forks, are rusty!" I wiped the bit of dirt off them.... "No they ain't".

"You don't have a chain guard fitted to this machine sonny..."

"You show me the chain, and I'll fit a guard to it for ya matey, it's a shaft drive."

He's getting a bit desperate now.... He asks "Do you have an Mot and insurance for this machine?"

"Aaah. Now ossifer, you got me there. I don't have an MOT for it...."

Big smiles, out with the notebook, I'm getting done for no MOT. I let him fill the address and then told him to check the rego, it's only 2 years old! So, after a good half hour at the roadside, I got a 'produce documents'.

At this point I took my lid off. "Hey, kid... Do you know Sergeant Pilkington?" "Ye-es" "Aye, well when you get back to Creewee cop shop, say hi for me. He's my uncle...."

If looks could kill....

 

I used to work permanent nights. Would knock off at 4am, and ride home down Nantwich Road in Creewee. Turn off into Willaston....

Anyway, remember the fat pollisman from Noddy? There was one used to patrol Nantwich Road, and he would stop me every time he saw me. "Where you going, where you been...?"

"Going home. Just clocked off from BOC"....

Get a produce documents.

4AM the next morning I would head to Brutal Street for the police station, and stand with my finger on the buzzer waiting for the desk sergeant.

"Why you producing your docs at this time of day?" "Cos this it the time of day your fat boy on Nantwich Road is stopping me". They got fed up after the third time I did it... I guess they must have had a word with him... I used to see the fat berk quite often, but he never stopped me again. I always, waved.....

 

And, as an aside... I remember dad telling me when he was a new boot (straight out of the Seaforth Highlanders into the Cheshire Constabulary) about the guy who went up to the desk sergeant at about 3 in the morning and said... "I just killed my missus. Better lock me up."

Sergeant looks at him, and says "Don't be a silly bugger." Guy says "I has... Really."

Sergeant, plainly not believing him... . "Aye, okay lad. Tell you what, go home and have some cocoa, and come back in the morning. So the guy wandered off.

He did come back later. And yes, he'd killed his missus. With a hammer, no less. Desk Sergeant wasn't around after that....

 

I'm kind of hogging this thread.....

There was an m/c cop in dad's 2nd last station who was, shall we say, 'challenged'. They were still using Norton Commandos at that time.

Mid summer, and station open day. Come look at the cells, see the demo of the shatterproof glass ) I broke it!). Yosser has parked his shiny new bike up for all to see on the forecourt. Parked it in full sun (remember how hot it was in '75?) the tarmac was soft.... There was a wee bit creak, and his bike toppled over! Cue lots of broken plastic, and much shouting! All the radio gear busted....

His favourite trick was sitting in the blind spot behind lorries, clocking them and then pulling them and giving a ticket. Used to do it over Woodhead regularly.

The lorry drivers got wise to him. One braked very sharply (for an invisible sheep) cue Yosser in a mangled heap with two broken arms. Shame.

Our next door neighbour at that time was CID. Promoted to sergeant.... (dad's theory was, the thicker they are, the faster they get promoted, get them out of the way) This guts nickname was 'Basher'. Very heavy handed...

He was given an unmarked mini Cooper, and was on the forecourt at the station filling it up. He'd got to 25 gallons, and thought maybe that would do.... Went to sign the docket and the clerk goes "Eh? It's only a ten gallon tank!!"

Aye, he'd rammed the nozzle through the filler pipe, and filled the boot with all the radio gear in. If he'd turned the ignition on... Boom!

We lived at the bottom of a hill when I was a kid. A CID inspector lived up at the top. He had a caravan.... I always remember him pushing it out of his driveway on to the road. It got away from him! Very funny to watch him running down the road after it shouting "Stop!" of course... It didn't listen

 

Not as exciting as some of the tales here, but involves foreign cops, in 2 different countries, in less than 24hrs. Few years ago the missus had to attend a conferance in Prague, knowing that for years I'd been wittering about taking the bike into Europe, she agreed to go on the bike, and when she was done we'd do some touring. great! Cop one, following the E40 out of France/Belgium, into Holland, started round the Antwerp ring road, which takes you through the Kennedy tunnel under the river, cept they were closing it, the volume of traffic was horrendous, and panic at were to go, or get out of it was setting in, found myself at the front, watching the barriers being dragged across, there waas a young cop in the middle of the road, started waving and pointing, my wife wife thumped me in the back and told me to get going, he was letting us through, I didn't need telling twice, he stopped all the traffic behind us, and there was just us going through, nice one fella! Cop 2, leaving Essen in Germany the following day, dropped onto the autobahn, only 2 lanes, and rush hour, the traffic stopped, I looked forward and all I could see was standing traffic for miles. Thw wife starts shouting at me to filter, so I do, I could see drivers groaning as the moved over for me. Eventually got to the front, there had been an accident, thankfully nothing that looked too serious, someone had bumped int someone elses rear end. Stopped at the front, by now we had about 7 bikes behind us. A plod stood at the side of the road was looking at me daggers, I mean if looks could kill, they would have been calling for the hearse!. Eventually we were waved on, but as I looked in the mirrors, I'd swear he was writing the reg nos down as we all passed him. Later that night, the hotel owner informed me that filtering is illegal in Germany!

 

As a young recruit many moons ago a few of us on bikes would approach the gate police one who would have a mean looking brute of a dog on a lead, so we got into the habit of showing the dog the pass first as after all he was the one with the brains, this went on for some time and became a bemused topic around camp until one day my mate arrived ahead of me at the gate showed his pass to the dog and the dog promptly took it from him and chewed it up, my mate was then done for defacing government property and was marking time outside the station C/O office, I duly was a good boy and showed the nice police corporal my pass and remarked on what a nice dog he had, the barteward just grinned.

 

Just another good cop story ! ... 1969 and a motorbike policeman chased me home whilst going a little fast on my 1957 BSA 650cc Roadrocket ... followed me right up the drive at my parents house much to the amazement of my mother having her quiet afternoon tea in the garden... no mention of my speed or documents... just interested in the carburettor as it was the single Amal TT used for road racing fitted as standard to the model... I’d apparently gone past him and he wanted to have a look at one ... he did say it gave the bike a good turn of speed as he’d had to get a shift on to catch me up...

 

Always say Sir to a police, and don't break the law.
How hard is that?

 

Mate of mine got 6 points on his licence. He asked "Is it a raffle?"

Constable says, "Sure thing son, get another 6 and you win a push bike."