The Cops - May 24

Thursday May 24

Richard and his 750 cc Laverda twin. He's more fond of the Jota, but I like the looks of this one more.

Getting up at 6:30 to say my goodbyes to Richard Backus is just the first part of an easy day. I then ride out of Wallace at 10, the bike hums nicely along at 50 mph on the two-lane blacktop on the other side of Kansas City. A tailwind helps, and the farmland looks pleasant enough. It does remind me a bit about the movie 'Two-Lane Blacktop' (a must-see along with 'Easy Rider' and the original 1971s version of 'Vanishing Point'), but also some stretches of Sweden, minus of course the pine trees and the Møøse. But like Dorothy in 'The Wizard of Oz', I soon realize I am not in Kansas anymore, the moment my rearview mirrors turn flashing blue and red. Turns out I was wrong about Missouri being a helmet law free state like the rest of The Heartland, but still I get off easy: 

 Carrolton police officer with punk-ish style haircut and braces, decides that if my Danish permit to ride helmetless* is good enough for the rest of the world's police forces, it is good enough for her.

* For the uninitiated, Danish law allows for people to ride without a helmet if the are physical or mental reasons for it. Like if it provokes a migraine, or if one suffers from claustrophobia. Of course a lot of people abuse this, but if the provision didn't exist, my motorcycle hobby would be more expensive that it already is. I do mention to her that in Japan I got off scott-free exactly 30 times:(http://nimbustripinjapan.blogspot.com/2007/07/wednesday-oct-25-part-ii-motorcycle.html).

Above & below: Missouri road signs - really tough on littering, but considerate of The Amish.

Moving further on into Missouri, I realize  to my dismay, that I have lost my 'Speed not 4 kids' helmet from Vietnam back where the young lady stopped me. So I buy a scruffy DOT-approved $10 bucket at a local mc dealership; - "no extra charge for he cobwebs", the owner says. Counting on my luck and my permit I ride on, but get nailed by another cop in Hannibal, just before the Illinois state line. Polite and professional, but much less understanding on my plight ("we have a no-tolerance rule on helmets and seat belts"), he writes out a ticket, which he thinks will be $25. If he's right, it's a bargain, and by far the cheapest of the mere three such fines I've collected during 30+ years of riding helmet-less all over the world. He does mention I went too fast as well, but lets that go. Nice guy, really.

Officer Bartels & culprit in his cool new Dodge Charger. Long ago I made the decision not lie to cops, as they tend to appreciate that a lot, and also decided not to let the preciously few tickets I get upset me: I count that money as just part of the many expenses of having this motorcycle hobby. 

After this brief encounter with The Law, I enter the historical district of Hannibal, where one cannot fail to notice that Mark Twain came from here. They're milking it, of course, but the place does have a nice feel to it. As I sit eating my turkey salad and talking with the locals, an old lady at the next table tells her companions that she just got a speeding ticket for going 10-15 mph over the limit**. She's 93 years old (!), and says it's her first ticket ever, so she's going to fight it in court. Well, I would too, if I had a seven decade clean record to defend.

** https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=45&v=x_wLVCLPx0M