Well this is a story I seldom share anymore as Im older and have few friends that ride now and could give a rats ass about. Here goes..
The year is 1983 I was stationed at Bragg with an Airborne Rifle Company. I was dating a colonel's daughter who lived about 28 miles from the base, but was attending college at East Carolina University. Roughly its about 125+ miles or so. During those years driving laws meant very little to me. At night I could make the run in less than 2 hours. I think about 1 hour and 30 min at best. I would use Rt 13 instead of going up 95. 95 was out of the way and there were too many troopers on the prowl.
Well one Sunday afternoon my girl called the company and asked if I would like to go to a Pirates football game. It was pretty short notice and I actually said Im not sure if I can make it. She really didnt care if I made the game it was more of me coming to see her even if it was only for afew hours. So I get my gear on and head out from Ft Bragg.
About 2 weeks before this happened I was at Myrtle Beach and someone had stolen my side mirrors. I had failed to replace them and left on my trip without them. Big mistake...
The bike I was running was a 1982 Silver Suzuki GS1100E. For its day it was fast and it was the first street bike I bought. I had ridden plenty of dirt bikes, but nothing compared to the HP street machines that were coming down the pike.. So Im getting comfy in the seat and I finally get clear of Fayetteville and Im out in the boonies on Rt 13 and I start hauling butt. I would normally cruise on that bike around 120 to 125 on the straights and then back out of it when small towns came up or dangerous curves...
Normally I would take it easy during the day and fly at night, but since it was Sunday and were were heading to the field Monday morning for a week I said screw it Im going for it. I had made this trip so many times that I knew the entire route like the back of my hand. Very few folks would make the run back with me if I was balls out.
Well Im cruising along with a small alice pack on and Im doing around 125 to 130.. Im on a long straight and ahead of me I can see a line of cars maybe 3 or 4 not sure, but Im barring down on them fast and the left lane is clear. Back in those days Rt 13 was a 2 lane country road in good shape.. Now as I come up on them I slide over to the incoming lane and pass them. As I go by theyre pretty much a blur and I dont think twice about it. This is typical driving for me and Im confident and stupid.
So after passing them I focus on whats ahead and figure I got another 10 minutes of speed till I hit Grantham NC. Its a small town that forces me to slow down to 45 and then back to speed once the city limits is clear. Very few of these small towns had PD back in those days. You would pass thru them in 2 or 3 minutes and then be wide open again until the next one.
So Im sitting there on my bike tucked in nice running about 130+ on this beautiful stretch of road when all the sudden my peripheral vision starts to detect and object on my left. My heart stops and Im like WTF is this. Low and behold its a red car... Its a red Mustang LX 5.0...
As I look at the driver I realize hes in a State Trooper uniform and hes pointing his finger at me to pull over.... I couldnt believe what I was seeing... Now Im starting to compute the distance to Grantham NC and the chances of me out running him. Ive out run many State troopers from NC and SC... Dont advise that anymore tho...
So after a second or two I realize theres little chance of getting away. Its early afternoon hes got my plate number and hes driving a damn 5.0 probably built.. So I look back over at him at 130 and nod my head and pull over to the side of the road...
I come to a stop and get off the bike.. While I take off my small alice pack I look over at the unmarked LX and realize hes not getting out of the car.. I walk over to the passenger side and he rolls down the window and says... Hey what the fck is the emergency... I look at him and count the stripes and hash marks on his uniform and realize hes a senior trooper so Im honest and tell him Im trying to get to Greenville to see the Pirates play...
He starts laughing and says son the only thing your going to see today is a cell... Push your bike into that parking lot and lock it up and bring your gear back to my vehicle... He never gets out of his car... So I do and then I get into the passenger seat of his and we depart for Clinton NC where Ill be held until bonded...
Now Im kind of excited cause I havent had the chance to ride in a 5.0 yet.. Sad part is Im on my way to some hick town so I can be held until Im bonded...
While we are doing the paperwork he says I appreciate your honesty and your service to this country so Im going to help you out on the paperwork.. Im thinking cool maybe a 90mph instead of 130... Well we finish up everything and then he hands me the paper work and it says 122 in a 55...
Well Ill shorten this up... That stupid move cost me a night in a small holding cell and almost a 800, the loss of my license in the state of NC for a year...
Creeps
PS: The Pirates ended up loosing..
* Last updated by: Creepy847 on 5/24/2011 @ 1:10 AM *