I chuckle as I remember the Northern California motor cop who’d pulled me over 100 miles back. “So you get paid to ride motorcycles? How ironic, so do I!” As far as highway patrolmen go, he was a delight. “But you get to pack up and ride out of town,” he went on, “while I just ride around in circles.” I tell him I’m headed for Texas, loosely, anyway, that I’m just wandering around, chasing warmer temperatures and putting miles on this testbike. We speculate about whether the K1600GT I’m riding will make its way into the CHP stable, and, then finally, he lets me know I’m in luck because he’s going to cut me a break. After all, it’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and he doesn’t want to ruin the holiday for me.