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“May I ask why we have been pulled over, officer?” I said pleasantly.“Your mate was riding with his feet on the back pegs, which is illegal and I don’t like the angle of his numberplate. I also don’t think he can see much out of his mirrors.”Bly was non-plussed. His mirrors worked fine, his numberplate angle was not illegal by any stretch of the imagination, and sticking your feet on the back pegs is one of the ways we cope when we ride a Streetfighter at 110km/h on the freeway."
"to add to the fact that a can of bourbon and coke was selling for $15 on the main street of Cowes on Friday and Saturday night, and a beer was $10, one must pause and consider what we are also being charged to attend the race.It costs $80 for a day ticket. This ticket entitles you to stand in the paddock in the sun (or the rain) and see a small section of track, and maybe a big screen.One would think that Lindsay Fox might have built a permanent covered grandstand by now. Maybe planted a few trees for the fans to shelter under, or invested in a few truckloads of gravel so that fans and local racers do not have to stand in ankle deep muck by the side of the track.The track itself is a world-class marvel and is rightly loved by all who race there.But everything around it is shit. Utter, rip-off shit. Our bikes are still parked in a boggy paddock. The security morons still can’t manage to open the gates for the fans despite the fact that the races have started, or can’t seem to work out that pit crews need to get to the starting grid to assist the local riders, and should therefore be granted crossing privileges ahead of people looking to find a parking spot in Parc Firme. The trackside food is dire. The toilets are a crime against humanity and the trackside expo is yawnworthy.We were not charged with any offence, but we both had a small vial of our spit sticky-taped to a sheet of paper stating who had taken the sample and when. The sample that was taken from us was not refrigerated, nor was it dealt with in a sterile, scientific manner. For all I know, the positive result came from the police officer’s own hands when he was handling it.
The older cop, yawned and scratched his belly.“Nothing much,” he sighed.The bonsai strutted forward.“I require you to remain here for four hours,” he stated.Bly and I blinked at him.“Where?” I asked.“Here,” he indicated with his arms.“By the side of the road here?”“Yes,” he affirmed.“You gonna stay with us?”I swear one of the big old cops stifled a grin.“No, he said. “I have lots of paperwork to do thanks to you two.”
Were we intimidated? No, not really. We’re too old and scarred for this kinda stuff to be intimidating to us.Were we harassed? Certainly.Was our way impeded? Absolutely.Were we breaking some law? Well, Bly was riding with his feet on the back pegs and had a numberplate that was perched at an angle the policeman didn’t like – so I guess we have to cop it sweet in that regard.Was any of this inane bull**** justified in any way?I’m sure you can make your own minds up about that.I’ve certainly made my mind about riding to the MotoGP and the Superbikes again. "
Yep saw it on Facebook. It makes me wonder if the whole story was told....CheersEvo
