TRACK DAZE
Cop Tales 4
Author: Stan “The Lawyer” Weller
Ghost Riders
The year was 1991 and we were young, dumb and full of… gas. It was nearing twilight as David, Mike and I topped off our tanks at a local filling station. We were heading for home after cruising around the countryside outside of Madison, Wisconsin. Dave had just bought a used Suzuki 450GS, his first bike, and was operating on his permit. Thus, as the clock crept toward 8:30 p.m. on that warm summer night, the rapidly approaching darkness meant that he needed to be off the road in order to be in compliance with state law. Of course, when you are a twenty year old college kid, some laws just don’t make sense. This was our first mistake. We just kept going. Two hours later found us not at home but instead entering one more of a long line of small towns located along ribbons of fine stretches of asphalt. This was our second mistake. Now, if you don’t know the rule about small towns, I will enlighten you – when going through a small town in Anywhere, USA, especially after dark and while riding a motorcycle, BEHAVE YOURSELF. When drudgery sets in, nothing could be more enticing to a young, bored officer than a few bikers rolling through his territory attracting attention to themselves. This was our third mistake. Fortunately for us, (or so it would prove to be) whatever we’d done to attract this obviously unwarranted attention from the local constabulary, we did not get stopped immediately. Instead he followed; no, actually he stalked us.  Not knowing that we’d picked up a tag-along, we headed out of town and lit’em up. A few sets of minor twisties and straight-aways later, Mike had pulled far ahead. I stayed back a little and was keeping an eye on Dave in my mirrors to make sure he was riding within his limits. David’s skills were, however, more than sufficient to allow us to ride well above the posted limit. Fourth mistake. The novice Law Enforcement Officer, (LEO) apparently having lost some time through the corners while trying to follow us, hit a long straight and started rolling up on us fast. No lights, no siren, just a set of headlights in my rear view mirrors flying up behind Dave and me. I did not even think “cop” at the time, instead I figured that it was a group of teens out joyriding or maybe even a drunk.
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