Usually when I am apprehended by The Fuzz(TM) my arse is toast. I have successfully proven this theory in parts foreign as well, most notably in the Great State of Oregon.
Last night I was out in the Wairarapa on the FJR. Another splendid evening over there for riding. On my way back from Martinborough I drove into the first long straight and immediately noticed a simply marvellous disco lights display atop a Holden Commodore wagon heading ominously towards me.
Sigh.
I indicated my stopping intention and did so immediately.
The officer approached. A young female model with a big grin on her face.
"Do you know how fast you were going?" she enquired.
"About 118?"
"124. Want to have look?"
"No thanks, I trust your gear."
"I'm going to let you off with a warning. It's a lovely night for a ride and there's nobody else around. I ride myself and it's really easy to get a good drive on out of that corner. Take it easy and enjoy your ride home."
"Have a nice evening!"
Thank you kindly Constable. Your consideration is greatly appreciated!
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