Originally Posted by engineerbob

Okay, somebody else started "story time." Don't blame me.

December 9, 1979, two of my buddies and I were riding our motorcycles (2 BMWs and a Norton) on a highway through a Midwestern city. It was a Sunday afternoon of unseasonably warm weather and we were riding in a brisk manner. I was in third place when I heard the siren. Looking in the mirror, I saw a Ford Fairmont (all 85 horsepower straining to keep up) and went for the shoulder. The officer anticipated my move and advised me, through his loudspeaker, to continue to the up-coming exit ramp, where several more officers were waiting. Everyone behaved and we were treated fairly.

Handcuffs, a paddy wagon, and a trip downtown followed. But then the narrative took an unexpected turn. Rather than being taken to the jail, we were separated and taken to offices. A few minutes later a pissed-off Lieutenant came in and asked me if I was going to tell my father about this. He then volunteered that he knew my father. Uncharacteristically, I didn't say much. Turns out, when our licenses were being run, another officer heard my name and called in to say that my father was a Lieutenant in that PD. He wasn't.

We were put into a patrol car and driven back to where our bikes were parked. I don't know when the Police discovered their mistake, and I wasn't going to wait around to find out. I probably didn't go back into that city for a year afterward.