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Were there cops everywhere yesterday or was it just me? Is that some foreshadowing for something that will come later in this post? Yes, it is. It was a beautiful day here on the San Francisco Peninsula. Sunny, warm, a little haze in the air that kept things nor-cal cool. I hear San Francisco was wrapped up in some miserable fog, but down here, perfect. So I jumped on the moto and headed into the hills. I may be just a little too comfortable along my favored route for a Friday, mid-morning. First, I illegally passed a bunch of tourists driving at about 10 mph just before one of my favorite set of twists on Skyline Blvd. The passing was illegal, but completely safe. It was on a straightaway with plenty of visibility. I just always feel cheated if I can’t get into those turns without someone’s brake lights in my face. Then, in a small straight section before the next set, I blasted past a guy on a Harley. And to digress slightly, when I first started riding my motorcycle I loved the concept of all motorcycles, but recently I have started to understand the Harley-hating crew. Not that I’m jumping on board there, but please, if there is a sport bike coming up behind you, move over and let us on our merry way. You like cruising slow, we like diving into twists. We can all get along. Well, except for your annoying pipes. That South Park Episode hits the nail on the head. My exhaust is a little louder than what comes out of the factory, but sweet jesus, those ear-cracking, filling-rattling, blat-blat-blatters that some of the Harley riders put together are just stupid. Oh, and please do then put a stereo mounted into that massive “shield” that I guess is supposed to be a wind screen and turn it up enough that you can actually hear it over your pipes. That’s awesome. Especially since your taste in music is so educated and refined. The sonorous tones of Molly Hatchet screaming over the slapping farts of air ripping out of your exhaust are like dulcet harps singing me off to sleep. Okay, I know that’s not everyone and there are plenty of idiots on sport-bikes, and I actually like the look of a lot of Harleys, but seems like the d-bags hang out on the same roads I do sometimes.

I get through that first set of turns and accelerate into a long piece of straight road. I don’t know if I was looking in another direction or what, but all of a sudden there is a CHiPpy coming at me. I was probably going about 70 in a 55 (it may even be 50) and I was coming up on another line of cars (maybe I didn’t see him mixed with those cars ahead). A saw him at the last second and when I looked in the rearview mirror I saw his break lights and then his roof lights up like the worst Christmas ever. My stomach sank, but I just kept riding along non-chalantly. I started a little chant in my head, “Please be pulling over to pick up debris, let it be debris.” I kept riding a long. Slow. Behind about three cars in front of me. I kept looking in the mirror. “Let it be debris, let it be debris.” Our little line of vehicles started to go through some curves. Still no lights speeding up behind me. “Let it be debris.” More curves. “Be debris.” We had definitely gone long enough to allow time for him to turn around and catch back up but I refused to get my hopes up. “Debris!” Cars started peeling off the road in front of me into driveways and side roads. Still no flashers. Eventually I was alone on the road and ticketless. Is my day of cops over?

The rest of this ride was relatively uneventful with the exception of all those beautiful twists along 84 and Pecadero Creek Road. I took Highway 1 back up to Half Moon Bay and 92. Like I said, beautiful day. When I got home I went and played tennis, split sets with Bob. I really need to play more tennis. I’m so wrecked after playing, but in a good way. Best exercise. I still end up using my American twist serve much to my un-warmed up back’s chagrin. The wind had picked up a little, as it does in the afternoons, and that always makes for rough tennis, but it was still fun.

So, shower, eat and then go visit a friend of mine in Palo Alto. I ride my motorcycle everywhere mainly because finding a parking spot at our complex is a huge BITCH. So since I had one, I wasn’t going to risk losing it. I take the moto. I can park that anywhere. Later last night I’m driving home, taking the scenic route up El Camino through Menlo Park (I never go down there since sis and family moved back to NY). I turned right at Menlo College to head to Marsh Road and the freeway. To be honest I actually thought the light was green when I did it. Apparently not. I notice lights in my mirror but just thought a car had followed me and that the red lights were the traffic signals that I just went under. I stopped at a stop sign, continued, and nearly shit my pants when the cops behind me used that weird blurpy siren/horn thing they have. I pulled over.

Well, luckily these guys were way cool and had both been motorcycle cops so were on my side and were admiring my bike through our whole interaction, asking about the mods I’d done, was it fuel injected or carbed (my little 2000 SV is, of course, carburetor). The cop said I rolled through the stop light which was generous of him since I basically didn’t stop at all (like I said, I thought it was green, haha). He asked for my license and said if it all checked out he would just give me a written warning and I’d be on my way. It all did and I was. I consider that a milestone though. First time I was pulled over on my bike and I’m hugely thankful that the first time wasn’t earlier in the day when I was speeding. And as a side note, I always wondered about my integrated tail-light, turn signal thing and how legal it was and if I’d ever get a ticket for it. While the one cop was running my license, the other scoured my bike pretty well with his flashlight, looking at every little detail. They didn’t say one word about the taillight. I had also shut it down so they could definitely see the blue lens. Maybe they just missed it, maybe it’s not as illegal as I thought.

Yes I actually took this picture yesterday, just so happens I love this little spot and my bike always looks so sexy there. I sat down by the creek there and read some and wrote some and also recorded the creek for your enjoyment.

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