Well, this isn't a new story of mine, so skip this particular post if it sounds familiar. I was gassing up my Sport 1100i four years ago on a hot summer day here in California. There was a nice looking Camaro in front of me and short dude fueling it up. He had on coveralls that were peeled down to the waist and the overall arms tied around his beltline. He finished filling his tank, hung up the hose and walked over to the Sporti.
"Nice bike! Is it German?"
"Nope. Italian. Just like the one in Rush Hour."
"Fast?"
"I've had it up to 134." As I finished saying this, he untied his sleeves and pulled on his coveralls. Across the chest - "California Highway Patrol".
"Urk... of course, I did that in Nevada..."
True story.