On the way home from work tonight, just minding my own business cutting up some cages on the quay at 180ish, and this complete utter farking moronic dipshit in a whanau-mover decides to do a lane change. WTF was that loser thinking doin a lanechange when I was bearing down on him? So anyway I managed to haul it down and get around him in time, got a bit hairy as I crossed onto the other side of the road, but hey, the cop bike coming the other way was onto it and he cut across the car to his left to avoid me. But get this - the wanker cop decides chase me. Huh? I was just avoiding the lard ass in the cage that tried to friggin kill me. I couldn't believe it. Farkin wankers always picking on bikers. Guess it proves they must be out to get us, aye?! Anyway, I wasn't really in a sociable mood, so I opened it up and that fat beemer disappeared as I split up onto the mway. Showed that nancy who was the man of the house. I'd never really noticed how easy it was to split at a consistent 230+ in rush hour, and by jeez it got a bit hairy on that cold damp centreline, but I can now confirm it's quite possible to do all the way from aotea to KGB at that speed.
Anyway, get off the end of KGB and there's the place lit up like friggin xmas, and all these bastards in Hi-Vis gear standing around waving torches. Not to mention the woman pushing the pram across the road. Fark, I knew I shouldn't have left the plate on. But there was a gap between cars, and if I did it quick enough they wouldn't be able to read the plate, so I kept the hammer down and split 'em. Couldn't believe it though when I felt the bump. Bitches had spiked me. My friggin new racetech's down the farking gurgler. So as the bike started sliding round like a greased up ho on silk sheets I'm thinking this ain't the shiz no more. I couldn't make the last few kays home in this sorta condition so had to admit defeat. Stopped and got the lube out. Wankers put those cuffs on so damn tight, particularly on the wrist that I hurt binning a wheelie. Dangerous driving, failing to stop, driving while disq. Only just got back from the station. Bike's in impound. Which is okay, cos I'll need a few weeks to find some new tyres. That's it, though, last time I run a plate. Gonna make sure I don't leave home without a scanner/detector/jammer/no plate/Satnav in case I get chased in an area I don't know/gun. Bastards.
OR
I got *555 'cos some people mover did a dodgy lane change as I tootled past and decided to report me for their incompetence. I got a ticket for only no WOF. Nice cop too, AND he was an HP sargeant. Don't get that in the same sentence often, do you? Had a good chat about runners. He didn't say anything about the pig stickers. If it hadn't cost me $200 I might be tempted to stop more often.
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You decide which version you like best seeing as some of you twats wouldn't know the true story about anything I get up to if it bit you on the ass.
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