Police escort

Enjoyed a very nice and somewhat unusual motorcycle ride today. While stalled in rush hour traffic on the east-bound half of the notorious 91 freeway (reputed as the worst freeway in America) I was suddenly passed by three Sheriff officers riding identical BMW R1200 police bikes. The officers each gave me a friendly wave as they glided swiftly by while splitting lanes between the outer two stalled lines of traffic. Immediately after they’d gone the words ‘police escort’ appeared in my mind, and I swung the big GS out between an obsidian black Tesla and a jacked-up Ford F150 monster truck to race after my new buddies who already had a 10 car lead. It was easy catching up to the police bikes as the cars ahead of us were swerving wide to allow the law enforcement motorcade to pass. I quickly took up position as the fourth BMW and focused on maintaining my spot by keeping my eyes on the assault rifle mounted to the back of the R1200 directly in front of me. The motor officers didn’t seem to mind my joining them and we made great time averaging 40 MPH at the height of Friday afternoon rush hour. I peeled off formation a half mile before my exit in Riverside and watched the officers continue towards the desert, wishing I could ride with them into evening. There’s no doubt a special community among riders, and as long we abide the laws and common sense it seems these bonds sometimes even extend to include unlikely riding companions.

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