I think it was early summer of 1973 that some friends and I were planning on seeing Evil Knievel jump a few cars at Dragway 42. We planned on riding our motorcycles, but my friends Suzuki wasn't running right, so I took a late night trip out to his apartment two days before the big event just to see if he had got it running.
I was in my AMX, and about 5 miles away from his apartment when some guy got behind me on a motorcycle with his bright light on, and he stayed right on my bumper. Even though I had the mirror turned to the non-glare setting, his head light still illuminated the whole interior and it was really annoying me.
When I got within a couple of miles of his apartment, there was a 1/4 mile long straight stretch of road just after you crossed some railroad tracks that gradually went up a slight hill. Then there was an intersection about 200 yards beyond the crest of the hill.
I slowed down to about 5 mph to cross the tracks, then I lit em up. I saw the head light of the bike go up in the air a foot or two, and he was right on me all the way thru 1st. gear, but when the tires broke loose (and it fished tailed) when I hit 2nd. I jumped ahead of him by a length or two, and he must have let off because I really started pulling away then as I was approaching the crest of the hill, and the line of cars that had been coming my way the whole time I was acting foolish.
Now just as I passed the 4th. car in the line of 5, I noticed by the parking lights that it was a full size Mopar (like the Highway Patrol drive) and the head lights of the 5th. car outlined his radar unit positioned on his drivers side passenger door.
Right then (as I crested the hill) I knew I was busted big time, and the only thing I could think of doing was to turn at the intersection and head down the totally dark country road as fast as I could to get away. I went about 1/8 mile, pulled over, turned my lights out, and watched my mirror to see if the police car had turned around to come after me. I never did notice him cross the intersection, so I pulled out, and decided to go home and give my friend a call the next morning.
Saturday morning, I'm sitting in my living room, when who should show up but my buddy riding his brother's Suzuki. It seems that he couldn't get his running. He then asked me if anything exciting had happened to me last night, and by the goofy look on his face, I knew he must have been the guy who was tailgating me the night before.
I said, that was you, you SOB, and he started laughing. Then he said how in the heck did I ever see that Highway Patrol car, because he didn't, and neither did our other friend who was behind him in his car, who's also a policeman.
It seems they continued on to his apartment after I turned off, and just as he was taking his helmet off, in comes the Highway Patrolman, jumping out of his cruiser, and shouting, "Where is that guy in the AMX?" (he managed to get my license #) My friend told him I turned off at the intersection. He then calmed down, and told him he had clocked him at 65 mph. in the 35 zone, but he really wanted to get me because he had clocked me from 5 mph all the way up to 95 when I let off.
Our mutual friend (the police officer) talked him into only giving him a ticket for 49 in a 35, so he wouldn't have to go to court, and the last thing the State Trooper said was the night is young, and I would probably be back.
I never drove my AMX in that area again, for about 5 years.
As luck would have it, the Ohio weather turned cold, so we wound up not taking our motorcycles to see Evil Knievel after all.