Originally Posted by Chuck33079

Haven't been pulled over in the Z yet (knocks on wood), but I spent plenty of time on the side of the road talking to cops when I was younger and dumber. Most of my tickets were garden variety speeding tickets that were completely legitimate and completely my fault, usually with a no front plate ticket tacked on if the cop was having a bad day.

What would have been my biggest ticket (and likely a trip to jail) turned out to be a warning. I was absolutely hauling *** in my STi around a freeway interchange. It was banked just perfectly. I always used that particular interchange to test out any suspension work. This time I got a good running start on it, and just ripped through there. I probably hit somewhere in the neighborhood of 130+. I backed off of it merging onto the freeway, and saw a motorcycle with flashing lights behind me as I realized I was going to jail shortly. I had lifted, and looked down at the speedo to see how bad the ticket would be. The needle had just drifted back down to about 110-115. At this point, I began mentally preparing myself to go to jail for the evening.

I pulled over onto the shoulder and braced myself. The motorcycle cop got off his bike, stormed up to my window and began screaming at me. He ordered me out of the car, walked me around to the trunk and patted me down. Once he saw that I was sober and unarmed, he proceeded to give me the *** chewing of my life. The guy must have been a drill sargeant at some point in his life, because he was giving me flashbacks to R. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket. He yelled at me for being stupid for a solid fifteen minutes. It was almost an out of body experience. He swore at me nonstop the whole time and pretty much never repeated himself. He had an endless supply of ways to call me a stupid ************. I wish I had a recording just to hear it again.

After he finished tearing a new hole in my ***, I figured it was about time for him to take me to jail. I almost fainted when he told me that he was on his way home, he was late already, his wife was pissed and there was no way he was going to stick around for thirty minutes to wait for a squad car and tow truck. He looked at my license again and told me he lived not four blocks from my house. He informed me he wasn't going to forget about my stupidity, and if he and I ever had a reason to meet again I was going to jail no questions asked. Then he ordered me back into the car, and to GTFO of his sight.

I saw that cop probably every week or two in passing in my neighborhood, and he never failed to wave at me. It wasn't the "hi, how are you" kind of wave. It was the "hey, dumbass, remember me? I remember you" kind of wave.