I was pulled over a few years ago into a gravel lay-by by a couple of bike cops. They demanded, quite reasonably, to see my 'papiers'.
However, during an inspired moment, I'd decided to leave all my documents in the UK, the logic (logic? ha!) being that if I haven't got them, they can't take them away. Everything soon descended into a scene that only needed Buster Keaton to be complete.
After a lot of gesticulating and some admirable pantomime, it turned out my passenger had his license with him. One of the cops went off with it and had some lengthy radio conversations, while his mate reclined in a very cool mirror shades biker fashion on his machine. He might have been examining his nails. After some further charades, and very firm instructions, I exchanged places with my passenger, one cop strode out into the road, halting the traffic. The other was still parked behind us, maybe picking his teeth. My mate had never driven the car before, and was a little nervous. Now, my car has a lightened flywheel, about a metre travel on the clutch and a fairly ambiguous gearbox. The steering can best be described as ambitious. My advice was "give it a good footfull and get the clutch out, you'll need plenty of revs, and keep an eye up front". He followed my instructions to the letter. What we hadn't bargained for was the presence of reverse gear, when it certainly hadn't been invited. I'll never forget the face of the copper in the road as we shot backwards in a cloud of grit gravel and dust, while he stood there waving his arm forward. The reason I won't, is because I'd like to forget the face of the guy sitting on the bike behind us as we headed straight for him. The ditch must have seen like a good option at the time.
Fortunately for us, and I'm not kidding, is that the cop in the road found this so funny he could hardly stand up for laughing. If our fate had been in the hands of cop number two, I think he would have shot us.
I hope that helps...
H
