Back through out the 1990’s I rode to Daytona Bike week with a good friend of mine from NJ. Usually a nice 2 day ride but depending on weather …going down was great as it got warmer and warmer. Usually had minor regard for speed limits and never had any issues. After about 11 years of this same trek I find out in North Carolina that my friend carries a .38 in his tour-pak. Hey wtf… but had we ever gotten stopped, we’d all be in jail.
That next morning we’re are heading down I-95 in South Carolina doing about 85. I’m road capt. and there are 6 of us. In my rear view mirror I can see a blue flashing light ( state troopers) about 1/4 mile behind us. My brain is racing for an excuse as I know we’re busted. Slowed down to 60 and pretended to be cool…the trooper flys by us in the left lane, gave a thumbs up. Pulled into one of rest areas to shake the adrenaline off and get gas.
Smiley passed about 11 yrs ago. A long term die-hard biker with a huge set of cohones. One of the nicest people you could ever have met with a .38 in his motorcycle
One of my club brothers back in the day had a red knucklehead chopper, and he fixed a vertical post on his handlebar, and welded an old .38 revolver on the top of the post at the bottom of the trigger guard, so that the revolver always pointed forward. It was never loaded, but of course he caught a ration of sh!t for it from most cops, especially the City of Denver police, who hated bikers. He eventually got tired of the hassle of having his bike towed and impounded and took it off.