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In the spirit of most memorable…

Thinking back on my riding as a youth, I have to admit…I was a SQUID.  Shorts, T-shirt, dock-siders (does that date the era?) and a helmet were my every day riding gear.  The stupidest thing I did on a motorcycle was to try and outrun the cops. Actually, I succedded at that part…well…just read on.

At the tender age of 17 on my first streetbike - an ‘85 GS550ES - I got in a lot of trouble.  

It was Aug 13 1989 and a buddy & I were returning home from a day at the lake with some other friends.  Responsibility was not part of my daily agenda.  Anyway, we wer speeding about 15+ in a 40 mph zone and had a cop coming at us in oncoming traffic.  He clocked us and signaled his lights.  All of us were stopped in the middle of the road facing each other and he yelled “Pull over!!!”.  For reasons I will get to in a minute, I clicked down into first gear and bailed - leaving my buddy and the cop with that WTF? look on their faces.  Needless to say, he went after me and left my buddy on the side of the road.  My buddy took off when the coast was clear and hid behind a nearby school with his Interceptor 500 (ooh yeah). 

The chase begun.  It started in Bloomfield Hills, MI in the middle of suburbia.  I grew up and lived in a neighboring city called Troy, MI and knew every subdivision road on the north side which was close. After about three miles of the straight stuff, I bailed into my first subdivision.  Keep in mind at this point I am in my neck of the woods being chased by another city’s cop.  I knew several people in this sub and was hoping to have a big enough gap AND see a buddy with the garage open .  I did manage to see a friend from school and found the dexterity to get a wave in. 

Back onto the main roads, I ringed the neck of that 550 as fast as it would go.  ENTER (MORE) STUPID PART: I was on a six-lane divided boulevard coming up to an intersection with an eight-lane blvd.  At about 120mph I made the executive decision to run the red light at full tilt.  My method you ask?  I closed my eyes.  No bullshit.

When I realized that I made it through just over 120mph I tucked back in for about half a mile or so.  I looked back expecting to see nothing but a flashing light in the distance, but in fact I could read the ‘Chevy’ emblem on the hood of that Caprice.  Again, knowing where I was I ducked into another subdivision about a mile up.  This time I passed one of the buddy’s houses who I was with at the lake…and family friends…and their parents were out in the front yard!  They knew the bike too.  I ended up passing that buddy with the car full of friends I was at the lake with just after passing his parents…needless to say they were a little surprised at the company I had behind me. 

That subdivision had gated walkways that connected corners of the sub together for foot (and soon to be motorcycle) traffic only.  When I threw the bike onto the walkway, I looked back and saw the cop go up on someone’s lawn with the brakes locked.  FINALLY some separation.

At that point I was only a couple of miles from my house via subdivisions and navigated home successfully.  I left my bike out to let my buddy ‘know’ I made it.

NOTE: It is amazing the stupidity you will rationalize like leaving your bike out after a two-city chase just to let your buddy know you made it. I should have put it away.

Within minutes of being home, the car full of friends pulled up and we exchanged stories.  Now my dad was home when I got there so we were all (6 of us) squirrel’d away in my bedroom.  Next thing I know, the doorbell rang!  The cops!  Nope, my buddy’s parents who just saw me blaze by them with ‘company’.  My dad answered the door, followed by me within 5 seconds.  The father (again, family friends) looked at my dad, looked at me, then said to my dad “we should go fishing some time”.  He made some small talk for about another minute then simply left…I never forgot that.  Back in the bedroom still trying to unwind after about 20 minutes, my dad comes busting into my room “Why are the cops here?”  I immediately start changing out of my riding gear and at the same time say “Dad, (I) got in a chase…tell them I’ve been here all day”.  This was not a problem for him, me knowing that he does not like ‘the man’ and that he was a former hell-raiser.  Oh yeah, my riding gear consisted of a helmet, kakhi shorts, sweatshirt, and dock-siders.  Real smart.

To make a longer story only slightly longer, the collective adrenaline of me and the officers led to a “COPS” (the TV Show) worthy brawl with me losing.  No punches or assault from either side, but more like WWF.  I have never, ever in my life had that kind of adrenaline and the not-so-sane mindset to use it.  I truly had retard strength in my corner.  The first couple of officers that grabbed me found themselves thrown to the ground several feet away…then the pile-on happened with the slow crushing kneeling on my balls.  I saw GAME OVER finally flash on the screen in front of me.  I went to the county jail overnight, blah, blah, blah.

Some interesting outcomes:

1. They caught my buddy an he ratted on me - name, address, everything.  That’s how I finally got caught.
2. Just before Wrestlemania, they told my dad to go inside and get my license.  That was an interesting situation.  I really hoped he would return with one.  But he did not know at the time that mine was suspended.  He found out pretty quick from there.  That’s the reason I bailed - No license, insurance, tags, or endorsement.
3. The pursuing officer had many complaints filed against him from homeowners for ‘reckless’ driving.  I later found out that my buddy’s dad, the same one that came over, organized the complaints.  I never forgot that either.
4. The pursuing officer justified the chase by stating in the police report that I tried to run him over.  I tried to run him over in his Caprice.  While judgement at the time was not my strong suit, physics was.  I tried to run him over in his Caprice with my motorcycle.  Alright, I’ll move on.
5. They confiscated my bike with intent to auction it off.  Little did they (or anyone besides me) know that I had not transferred the title yet.  I called my friend who I bought the bike from and he went down to the police station claiming that he ‘loaned’ it to me.  At the time, at least, they could not confiscate a ‘borrowed’ bike…similar to a lease vehicle.  Got it back.
6. The tickets: reckless driving, failure to obey an officer’s signal (Not fleeing and alluding), driving on a suspended lisence, and no endorsement.  The ruling - $400, 4 points and one year probation through Bloomfield Hills; Troy gave me resisting arrest good for one year probation and $100. Not too bad considering.  I did have a high-priced lawyer that I made monthly installments to my dad until paid off.  Ironically he lied in court and told the judge that I was “blowing off steam from a verbal fight with my dad”…a play using the divorced parents card.  
7. Finally, a lifelong regret of that moment where I could have taken innocent lives when I ran that major intersection with my eyes closed.  I still think about the ‘what could have been’ on that one.  The fact that innocents could have been killed or injured I truly regret.

That was almost 17 years ago…I remember it like it was yesterday. I had my fifteen minutes of fame among my buddies and paid a fortune over time (higher insurance, etc) for that incident. I’m not proud of that episode and I never claim to be infallible, but it makes for a good story around the campfire.

My buddy and I went through a ‘cooling off’ period as I was pretty pissed that he gave me up. That didn’t last long because it wasn’t him who bailed and I recognized that soon enough. We are still lifelong friends.

I have since become pretty responsible in town. Out in the mountain twisties, not exactly. But I can honestly say that I am a “you play, you pay” kind of guy now. I have a lot more responsibility than I did back then. Getting hauled off to jail has much more consequences now that I am a contributor to society and my family. That is why I NEVER fill in the details to my wife after a mountain run.