The Utah Cop Story

 It is 1987.  I am Driving my friend Miya, another juggler, from California, to meet up with her fiancé in New Mexico. I've borrowed my girlfriend's Honda CRX for the trip, and am enjoying going a bit faster than I ever could've gone in my old Corolla.  Buzzing through Utah, and juggling at the rest stops.  I usually slow down for the towns, cause the cops tend to stay within a certain distance of a donut shop, but for this one small town I guess I was distracted... I notice the Highway Patrol car, but too late...  He pulls us over, saunters up to our car, as I decide: I'm going to get out of this one!  I roll down my window, and start begging for a break.
  "I know I was going a bit fast, but if there's aaannny way, I'd reaaallllyyy..."
  "I'm afraid that was just a bit too fast, son, just a little too dangerous, license and registration"
  "Here's my license, I'm not sure where the registration is, I'll find it but, this isn't my car"
  "Who's car is it?"
  "It's my girlfriends car."
  "Is this your girlfriend?"
  "NNnoooo"...  now in addition to being an irresponsible driver, I'm also starting to look like a real jerk... Plus he starts acting like the car might be stolen, tugging at the ID tag on the dashboard, as I finally find the registration.
  "Get out of the car reeeeaall slow!"
  "I don't know why you're asking, but okay..."
  "Do you have any weapons in the car?"
  "No!"
  "What's that big knife that was down by your leg?"
  "A bread knife... for cutting bread!  Wait.. I can prove it... I'll show you the un-sliced loaf!"
  I can tell he almost wants to like me, but he's not quite there.  So now I follow him back to his car, begging and pleading as I go.  He climbs in to call in the info, and tells me not to stand up on the traffic side, move around the other side.  So I go around the other side, and get into his passenger seat, as inspiration strikes me.
 "We could entertain you!"
 "What?"
 "We're both jugglers, you don't write us a ticket, and we'll do some juggling for you right here!"
 "WHAAT?"
 "Aw, what the heck we'll do some juggling for you anyway!"
 I hop out, run up and open up the hatchback, pulling out six juggling clubs, and calling out:
 "Miya, we're going to do some juggling for the officer!"
 Her response is much like his: "WHAAT?"
 So I toss three of the six on the ground and start into a bunch of tricks with the other three.  The officer approaches, looking at the other clubs on the ground and asks:
 "Can you do more than three of them things?"
 "What, if I could do four, then you wouldn't write me a ticket?"
 He says, "Maybe... maybe if you could do five!"
 I can do five, but I don't want a 'maybe', I want a done deal, so I whine:
 "You mean if I could do five, then you wouldn't write me a ticket?"
 "I don't know... let me see you do four."
 On purpose I juggle four clubs as it's just about to fall apart.
 He says: "Okay, but you'd really need to keep five of 'em going"
 I do a nice long smooth five club juggle, and finish with flourish.  He doesn't seem to like the flourish, because he pulls out his ticket book and starts writing.
 I say, "Hey! Wait a minute!"
 He says, "I'm good to my word, you conned me fair and square, this is a warning"
 It reads:
NOT A SUMMONS TO APPEAR OR A MOVING VIOLATION, JUST A FRIENDLY NOTE FROM YOUR UTAH HIGHWAY PATROL OF THE FOLLOWING VIOLATION: Excessive speeding
 Miya and I do some six club passing for him  and he finally breaks his stiff policeman facade, and bursts out laughing.
  I ask, "What's so funny?"
 He says, "Oh, I just wonder what all the drivers going by have been thinking!"
 And it's probably those few drivers passing by us there on the side of the road that give Utah a reputation for extra tough sobriety tests!
 We get back in the CRX, and speed off, though not too fast, and laugh ourselves silly over the incident for the next two hours.