I took a look over my shoulder, the car was gaining on me. A couple of weeks before a Police car pulled me over, two young coppers got out, they accused me of obstructing them allowing the motorcyclist they were pursuing to get away, ‘He was your mate wasn’t he.’ I knew who he was but he wasn’t a mate, he rode a 400 Suzuki trail bike, the Cops could of caught him easily if they put their foot down but got distracted by me on my Yamaha.
I kept looking back and the car was closing the gap rapidly, I knew it was the Police, the same two jerks that gave me the interrogation, I felt I could make it home before they caught up with me, I dropped a gear and wound the throttle back, the two stroke screamed with delight.
I forgot about the road works, I was nearly home but there was a set temporary traffic lights on red, fuck it, I jumped the lights, by the time I was at my house the Police car was right on my tail.
It was a simple decision stop and take the rap or carry on. I didn’t want to take the rap or the crap , my bike was legal so fuck them. I knew that they would catch me on any piece of straight road so I took them to the an area where the roads were short and the corners tight.
They put the flashing blue lights on but no siren, I got into my rhythm, switching directions like I was racing with the guy’s on the dirt.
Time distorts, the adrenalin pumping, I took a quick look behind, they looked like they were in a panic like two people sitting in a roller coaster car locked into a new experience and doing their best to stay with this lunatic on a dirt bike.
The chase went on with neither of us gaining an advantage, I kept them locked in this tight circuit hoping that they would eventually fuck up or give up, I was in too deep by now, in the end it was me that fucked up, I took a wrong turning and found myself heading back towards my house.
The road was straight enough for the Cops to catch me, I got to my house and gunned the bike up the path, I slammed into the shed door took it off it’s hinges, the bike fell on top of me and pinned me down, I frantically tried to find the kill switch,the metallic two stroke ring ting ting sounding like a machine gun in the confines of the shed.
As soon as I killed the engine I expected to hear the heavy pounding of the Coppers boots and to be quickly hauled to my feet, I could feel my heart pounding and the heat of the bike,but all I heard was silence,I waited and still nothing but silence, after the frenzy of the chase it felt intensely oppressive.
The Cops were locked into the pattern I established for so long that when I made a mistake they carried on allowing me sometime to get clear,once they lost me they probably took another wrong direction and by that time I am safe in the shed.
It felt like victory, there was no knock on the door the next day, my bike was highly modified, the number plate was smaller than standard and at an angle that made it difficult to read,it was an unfair fight and I beat them hands down.
A week later I am walking back from town, the bike was retired for a while because I knew if they spotted me again I would have to go through the same nonsense. In the distance I could see the car and the same two gung ho Cop’s, they had stopped a motorcyclist. For a moment I could not believe what I was seeing, the rider had the same bike, same colour helmet and jacket,he was my doppelgänger except he looked a whole lot cleaner, smarter and his bike was standard.
As I approached I could tell they were giving him a hard time, they obviously thought they had caught their man whilst their man was walking past them. I felt bad for the rider but if he an alibi he would be ok.
Please do not try this at home, all this happened a long time ago, it is not a good idea to ever get involved in a Police chase. The Police force now have better resouces and no longer employ the type of dicks that for a brief period chose to harass motorcycle riders for no reason, it was a motoring equivalent of the SUS laws (stop under suspicion.)
I gave up riding after that eventually getting a car, my lifestyle demanded a low profile and a two stroke dirt bike was not an invisibility cloak by any means but on that night I fought the law and I won.