Back in the 90s when I lived in San Jose, my buddy and I used to ride up to the ridge and north to Alice's on Sunday mornings.
One morning, we crested the last big hill before the one that goes down to the flat in front of Alice's and the strip mall, and we were flying. There was the Sheriff with his radar gun on the other side of the hill. He waved us over, and we complied of course.
Had his ticket pad out as he walked towards us. Says to me, "Son, I'd ticket you but you were 2nd over the hill so I can't prove the radar gun locked on you, but I know you were north of 100 mph. So your buddy gets to pay the price for you, since I have to cite him for whats on the radar gun."
My buddy gave me a grimace. About that time, the Sheriffs radio squawked about a big accident a few miles south. He looked at me, then my buddy, then his ticket pad, and said, "Its your lucky day, I don't have time to finish writing this ticket. Please keep it down and be safe!"
And he got back in the car and roared off down the road, gumball flashing and siren wailing.
My buddy chewed me out for a minute or two until we both broke up laughing.
Living the Gypsy Life