Commuting...
On my way home from work on Wednesday, I learned what would happen if you are operating an uninspected, unregistered, uninsured motorcycle without a license... well, you get pulled over...
I was more than half way home when I looked in the mirror and saw it... the cop car. I think to myself, "Mother fucker..." but I keep going... eyes on the road, and the speedometer. "Maybe he won't notice. Maybe he's on his way home for the day." About a mile later I heard the chirps. I looked in the mirror again and saw all the lights... son of a bitch, this is going to be expensive.
The officer came up to the bike and asked me if I knew that the bike was uninspected and the registration was expired. What do you say to that... I know this is a test. "Yes sir, I did know that." I'm not going to lie to the guy... I know this is just going to get worse. Next thing he asks for is my license which I gladly hand to him. He then asks me if I have insurance. Now, while I do have insurance, I don't have motorcycle insurance... "No sir, I don't."
By now I am picturing my wife punching me in the face... He's looking over my license and nowhere on there does it indicate that I can operate this thing legally. He tells me to sit tight. I knew I was going to be there for a LONG time.
About 45 minutes have now passed... I knew the longer he had me there, the more expensive this was going to be. I knew he was busy in there writing up tickets. Eventually, I hear his door close.
"OK Mr. Walter, you're going to receive two citations today. One is for the expired inspection. The other is for the illegal tag, and I'm going to be taking that with me today." Did I mention that the tag on the bike was not even supposed to be there? It was at no point in time ever registered to that bike or any of its owners. He then continues on, "I could have been writing all day." I believe him... he showed me much mercy.
So my new problem... getting home. He asks me if I have a cell phone... I do. He recommended that I call someone for a ride, but after he leaves... I can do whatever I want. He wasn't going to radio ahead and he wasn't going to be sitting down the road. He was going back to the spot he was sitting at before. He did tell me that the inspection sticker sticks out like a sore thumb, and now I wasn't going to have a plate. Oh boy... what the hell do I do? I don't have any other way to get this back. I waited for him to leave and called the wife to get her opinion. She tells me to do whatever I wanted... so... I fired it up and headed for home. The rest of the journey was, thankfully... uneventful. I pulled it into my driveway and there it's been sitting.
I will be mailing them two checks today.
I was more than half way home when I looked in the mirror and saw it... the cop car. I think to myself, "Mother fucker..." but I keep going... eyes on the road, and the speedometer. "Maybe he won't notice. Maybe he's on his way home for the day." About a mile later I heard the chirps. I looked in the mirror again and saw all the lights... son of a bitch, this is going to be expensive.
The officer came up to the bike and asked me if I knew that the bike was uninspected and the registration was expired. What do you say to that... I know this is a test. "Yes sir, I did know that." I'm not going to lie to the guy... I know this is just going to get worse. Next thing he asks for is my license which I gladly hand to him. He then asks me if I have insurance. Now, while I do have insurance, I don't have motorcycle insurance... "No sir, I don't."
By now I am picturing my wife punching me in the face... He's looking over my license and nowhere on there does it indicate that I can operate this thing legally. He tells me to sit tight. I knew I was going to be there for a LONG time.
About 45 minutes have now passed... I knew the longer he had me there, the more expensive this was going to be. I knew he was busy in there writing up tickets. Eventually, I hear his door close.
"OK Mr. Walter, you're going to receive two citations today. One is for the expired inspection. The other is for the illegal tag, and I'm going to be taking that with me today." Did I mention that the tag on the bike was not even supposed to be there? It was at no point in time ever registered to that bike or any of its owners. He then continues on, "I could have been writing all day." I believe him... he showed me much mercy.
So my new problem... getting home. He asks me if I have a cell phone... I do. He recommended that I call someone for a ride, but after he leaves... I can do whatever I want. He wasn't going to radio ahead and he wasn't going to be sitting down the road. He was going back to the spot he was sitting at before. He did tell me that the inspection sticker sticks out like a sore thumb, and now I wasn't going to have a plate. Oh boy... what the hell do I do? I don't have any other way to get this back. I waited for him to leave and called the wife to get her opinion. She tells me to do whatever I wanted... so... I fired it up and headed for home. The rest of the journey was, thankfully... uneventful. I pulled it into my driveway and there it's been sitting.
I will be mailing them two checks today.
Sounds like a Josh story. If you had a G35 you could drive for months without inspection or registration.
Posted by
Chuck |
8:43 AM