Well, I can now confirm there are decent coppers still out there.
Mrs Ixion needed a new cake plate , so I had to ride to Cambridge (Yes, they MUST come from Cambridge. No, I don't know why. Don't ask.)
Cake plate secured, and in top box, it seemed logical to return via Morrinsville and SH27. Cos the ride down on SH1 was the MOST TEDIOUSLY BORING ride I have ever done. Memo to Transit. Do you realise , that in terms of functionality, of getting traffic from A to B, SH1 is now LESS efficient than it was in the 1950s ?
Bugger around losing time on the back roads behind Cambridge, finding SH26. Memo to Waikato District Council. Your signposting sucks. Memo to mapmakers. The roads don't go where your maps show.
Finally get onto SH27. Nice straight fast road. With some curvey bits
von Klunken approves of such roads . He settled down into his schnell-panzer mode. Rain set in , ho hum, I already had my waterproofs on, raised the screen , settled into a nice relaxed reverie in the quiet dry air behind the screen, listening absently to von Klunken droning on about the North German Plain, its superiority to the Hauraki plains, the superiority of Baverian beer over Prussian beer, the inferiority of all things French, and idly musing on how I could prevent my visor steaming up,cos of there being no air flow past it.
And so the miles flicked on. Nothing quite matches a BMW for effortlessly destroying distance. Only problem is, on a fast road , under such circumstances, one becomes careless about keeping an eye on the speedo.
Not much traffic on this road. But here comes a little convoy of cars. And some sixth sense wakes up, and starts jumping up and down, ringing a little bell and waving a flag. Oi,oi, watch out there. Dunno why, but I don't like that convoy. Glance at the speedo - Ooo-errr , close the throttle and wash off speed. Convoy goes past.
Oh-oh, why is that car pulling left? And doing a U-turn. And -- OH SHIT.
Quick (very quick) stop. Shititty shit. How fast WAS I going when he pinged me? Oh shit. I must surely have washed off a good bit of speed before he was close enough to get a lock.
Well, I soon find out. "Clocked at 128kph. Sir! Any reason you were going so fast" (Phew. that's not *SO* fast. So I did lose a bit before you got a reading. Phew. At worst a fine and some demerits) .How DO you answer that damn silly question? Cos I CAN, that's why.
Insert much groveling, supplication, contrition.
"Well, I'll let you go with a good telling off". blah blah about death rate between here and Bombay. "On your bike, and WATCH THE SPEED". Yes, Sir, officer! (I did watch it , too, for the rest of the way. Makes you very cautious does such an experience).
So, I can confirm the legend. There are good coppers out there. And discretion is still alive and kicking.
Thank you Officer Plod. (He was a ginga too!. How about that). Nice guy.
But, I'm jolly glad that sixth sense made me drop off that extra 20kph or so. He might not have been so decent about that. So thanks also to the Helmut von Horny Humper and the other biker gods, and thanks to BMW for building lots of engine braking into their bikes.
But - grateful though I am to a decent copper, I have to ask, what the HELL was he doing on SH27? What happened to the rule about traffic cops sticking to state highways with numbers less than 10? 27. that's NOT less than 10. Can't cops count? Not cricket , I reckon. Especially in a mufti car. Damn hard to spot a mufti coming toward you.
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