It Was Just A Matter Of When....

And How Expensive.

This is the beginning of my 5th year with this motorcycle, my beloved 2010 Yamaha FZ1, 135 neck-snapping wheelie-poppin horsepower of pure fun. Yamaha claims it's a "Sport-Touring" bike, but the emphasis is really on the Sport part. Together we've traveled over 60,000 km all over North America, and despite the fact that most of the time we've been exceeding the speed limit - often by a considerable margin - I had not yet received a single speeding ticket. I've had cops flash their headlights and roof lights at me in a warning to slow down, received a written warning from the friendliest highway patrolman in Arizona the first time he pulled me over only to have him extract a solemn promise from me to leave the state the second time he pulled me over, but no tickets. Until yesterday.

The fine that accompanies a speeding ticket isn't the real issue, it's all about the demerit points. I can afford the fine, however enough demerits can cost you your licence. But as long as you get a ticket in a state that doesn't have a reciprocal demerit point sharing arrangement with your home province, the points don't follow you home so the only consideration is a financial one. As far as I'm concerned the last 60,000 km were worth every friggin' penny of this ticket and then some.

I left Page Arizona at 7 in the morning headed back to Echo Bay Nevada, but instead of heading northwest on the highway I started out in the complete opposite direction. On my way into town I'd had to make a 100 mile detour because of a landslide that closed a pass through a small mountain range that had cheated me out of what on the map looked like a really twisty section of road. My waiter at dinner the night before (he rides a Ducati Monster) informed me that if I went past the "Road Closed' sign on the highway I could run most of the fun part before being forced to turn around. He went on to say that because the road was closed that there would be no traffic, and no cops. It sounded too good to pass up.

I went past the Road Closed sign doing around 70 miles an hour, by the time I got to the hills I was over 80, and the last time I looked at the speedometer as I leaned into a series of climbing S turns it showed well past 90 and I was still accelerating, butt shifted well off the seat into the turn, knee out to lower my center of gravity, inside arm controlling the handlebar, outside arm relaxed, head up and looking through the corner, grinning like an idiot at how perfectly my day had started.

Which was when a black and white blur came around the corner going the opposite direction at an even greater velocity than my own, but not so blurry that the word Sheriff printed on the side didn't register. 

Crap.

There didn't seem to be any point in slowing down, he had to know that I knew there wasn't any place to run, and I figured it was going to take him a while to slow down, get turned around, and catch up to me, so I just kept on going.

After a couple of minutes when I came to a straight stretch on a plateau I slowed down, and eventually I saw the flashing blue and red lights appear in the rear view mirror. By the time he arrived I had pulled over, removed my helmet, and had Drivers Licence, Registration, Proof Of Insurance in hand.

Instead of pulling up behind me, he pulled up beside me, and through the lowered passenger window asked in a conversational tone "You do realize the road is closed up ahead don't you?"

"Yes." I replied, "But my map showed too good a section of highway for me to pass up."

"Is all your paperwork in order?" he asked as he nodded his head toward the slips in my hand.

Momentarily confused I paused for a second before confirming that indeed it was all up to date.

He seemed to think about that for a minute before he nodded his head, and said "In about 8 miles you'll start seeing the warning signs, better slow down then 'cause if you keep going the way you were you'll never get stopped in time, and I don't feel like spending hours doing paperwork."

Then in a cloud of dust he wheeled his truck into the desert and disappeared back in the direction he was travelling when I first saw him, leaving me standing on the shoulder of the road holding Drivers Licence, Registration, Proof Of Insurance.

4 Hours later in Utah when I came around a corner going 86 miles an hour in a 65 zone however, I wasn't so lucky, 'though the exceedingly polite young man gave me a break and only wrote me up for 80.

$150 For 60,000 km of fun? And no demerits?

He must have been wondering why I was grinning while he was handing me the ticket.