I was meeting some friends today and I decided to do a nice thing and bring a couple dozen donuts. I got a nice assortment: glazed and jelly-filled and maple bars and etcetera, and I learned something when I took the two boxes of donuts out to the bike: Donut boxes don’t fit in Road Glide saddlebags. Who knew?
Fortunately, I have a new pair of LidHaulers that I put on just the other day, so they got broken in today with the donuts. I strapped one box on each side and hit the highway. All the way up I kept reaching back and checking the boxes to make sure they were still there and each time I felt for them they were there. Those LidHaulers work pretty good.
Along about halfway to the clubhouse I picked up an escort: a California Highway Patrol black-and-white patrol car. He was definitely keeping pace with me — I’d speed up, he’d speed up; I’d realize that doing 85 with a cop in the next lane wasn’t such a great idea and slow down, he’d slow down; etc. It was starting to make me a little nervous. When I finally got to my exit I signaled to get off … and he got off with me. That’s when I knew something was up.
As we sat at the red light at the bottom of the off-ramp, waiting for the light to change and turn left, I started rehearsing in my head what smart-ass comments I’d make when the cop pulled me over. The two main contenders were either to offer him a donut to let me off with a warning, or if he asked if I knew why he’d pulled me over, to answer “You smelled donuts?” I figured I was getting a ticket no matter what, so I might as well earn it.
But then I felt for my donuts again and found that one of the boxes was coming loose. The lid had flipped up and torn off and half the donut cargo was spilling out onto the highway as I traveled. The cop didn’t want me, he wanted the donuts!
I felt much better after that. And for some reason, he didn’t pull me over. Maybe I didn’t have his favorite kind…
