My experience last summer with the Japanese Police

I suppose I should start by diving a little into religion. I was raised Catholic, but until actually driving in Japan, I guess you could say I was a bit agnostic.

Post driving, there is indeed a hell. It is the eastbound lane of Route 1 between Kyoto and Osaka between 8am and 10pm. My condemned sled was a 1993 Skyline GTS-T Type M. With no A/C. Added is an ignition system coordinated with NeptuneÂÂfs orbit, which every once in awhile decides it needs a break, whether this be idling at a stop sign or at 6000rpm in 4th gear. For more, see here. ( http://www.honda-tech.com/zerothread?id=928938 )

I digress. You see, driving in Japan is one continuous traffic jam with intermittent toll booths, which give you an honest to god NYC style street robbing but with a happy smile versus a gun, and a ÂÂgArigatou Gozaimasu!!!ÂÂh versus the ÂÂgBr3ak y0s3lf!ÂÂh (Spelled how it sounds) It is only natural that a human being in possession of emotions like impatience, disregard to human life and a dash of utter stupidity feels the need to break the 70km/h bond beset on one by the Japanese Government and go about on a ÂÂgfreedom runÂÂh every once in awhile. (Not recommended while eating freedom fries)

As car enthusiasts, you all might have stumbled across some clips from Tokyo of the ÂÂgMidnight ClubsÂÂh. Skylines, Supras, NSXs, Porsches, etc with F1 like power levels and drivers with what can only be described as a driving style from which the outcome will be a successful 200mph run and a emptied pack of Mild Sevens or a spectacular crash on the highway from which the Police can clean the mess up with a garden hose and dustpan.




The Ride.


The temperature.


The traffic.


The Driver.


Same car, same driver, different tunnel, different day. Good Perspective though.

Lacking the horsepower, cigarettes, and desire to turn myself into a messy streak on the side of a tunnel, I was limited to the speed-cameraless tunnels to bounce off the 180 km/h speed limiter. Modest at best, but still better then sitting inside the EZ-Bake Skyline next to some Bosozuka on a 250cc bike of unknown origin with a taste for the weedwacker-through-a-megaphone pipe he has fitted to it.

And it was on one of these ÂÂgfreedom runsÂÂh I met the Kyoto Police. My previous experience with police in japan was limited to a simple wave and smile to the guys that worked at the Koban (mini-police station) next to my work. Otherwise I had developed an eye for the god-forsaken speed cameras and the famous black and white crowns that appear once in a blue moon.

So I had no reason to fear or suspect a simple blue R34 Skyline GTS 4-door that I just passed going about 140km/h on the Keiji Bypass (70km/h) was going to be a problemÂÂc.

ÂÂE***il a small red beacon popped out of the roof and began flashing, followed by a siren. Fear and Suspicions? Check.

The Police pulled up next to me and an older man with thinning hair stared at me and yelled over the microphone to slow down and pull over. By this time, he could see that he was dealing with a clear foreigner. My face at that time probably communicated to him that my world had indeed been shaken. White was Black, Up was Down, And I am going to prison.

I pulled my Type-M over at the end of the tunnel, snapped out of panic mode and began to ponder my situation. In America, going 2x the speed limit equals my face on the hood of a crown vic, lawyers, and a boot in the ass from the insurance company.

But this is Japan, a society that lives by the phrase, ÂÂgThe nail that sticks out gets hammered downÂÂh, I am 6ÂÂf5ÂÂhof nail that is staring at a hammer bearing down on me at about 140km/h, give or take.

A younger officer comes to my window. He casts an upset look at me, as a mother would after watching her child microwave the family cat.

I canÂÂft feel my toes.

ÂÂgEtooo, Nihongo wakarimasu ka?ÂÂh

Do I understand Japanese? Looking back at the officer, I suddenly realize that while I am of a decent proficiency in Japanese, I have a snowballÂÂfs chance in hell of getting out of this in their native language, soÂÂc.

ÂÂgMan, I am sorry ÂÂebout thatÂÂcwas I going to fast? I donÂÂft really speak Japanese, I am here visiting a friend and this is his car, holy hell, try changing the subject, talk faster, I hope to baby Jesus this guy doesnÂÂft understand a word IÂÂfm sayingÂÂcdo you know how to get to Yawata-shi?

I see him switch his ticket book to his left hand, and he holds his hand up to stop my pathetic attempt at digging my way out of a certain graveÂÂche opens his mouth, and in the most beautiful broken english I have ever heard,

ÂÂgCan I have passport, license, prease?ÂÂh

I produce the items and handed them to the officer. He immediately heads back over to the older guy, who is leaning against the trunk of the R34 Holy-Hell-Is-That-A-Cop-Car Skyline. He has an amused look on his face, the younger guy shows him my license and passport, they both go back in the Skyline for what seems like a week.

With each minute that passed by, my confidence oozed from my head, down the Gunmetal paint of my Car, into the rain gutter on the side of the highway, and down the iron grill. (The highway was remarkably clean, it is amazing what little details one notices about life outside of a Japanese prison when put in these situations)

ÂÂcbut I guess I would be OK inside the prison, I mean, I am 6ÂÂf 5ÂÂh, 230lbs, IÂÂfm sure I could hold my own with the toughest of unlucky YakuzaÂÂfs inside a Japanese joint. Hell, I might be able to create a fleet of ******* for myseÂÂc

..The young guy reappears with my License and Passport. No ticket. No handcuffs. No gun. No billyclub. Sweet merciful Christ, now what??

ÂÂgAnooo, SpeedÂÂc.too fast. Srow down prease! Ki o tsukette kudasaiÂÂh

Speed to fast? Yeah I realized that when I sucked my seat through my butt when you hit the beacon of death, but slow down and be careful? ThatÂÂfs IT!!!?!?!?!?

ÂÂgThanks! I am really sorry! I will go slower now!! (Until my heart starts again) Um, Sumimasen?

The young guy smiled and gave a nod. He nodded. He actually nodded. I go twice the speed limit. He nods. What the hell happens at 3 times the limit? He brings you cookies? Sweet Jesus I donÂÂft believe it!!

The Officers climbed back into their car, both probably frustrated that the barbarian in the Skyline behind them has no idea what he just got away with, and that people like him should learn to respect JapanÂÂfs laws and not abuse their ÂÂggaijin advantageÂÂh.

But the truth is, the barbarian in the Skyline behind is more than aware of what he got away with, and had a bigger fear of what kind of surprise the good friend Karma would whip up for him later in life.

I may not have found Heaven yet, but there is a god, and a couple of his boys were looking over me (at least my wallet) that day.


The ticket would have been about $2000 in fees and insurance (assuming they would keep me) according to my boss. He still is blown away I got away with it.


Cliff Notes: Bake at 325 degrees for 120 minutes, simmer with butter every 30 minutes. Add cinnamon to taste.

 

sweet story....LUCKY! maybe you should go to the casino, try your luck

 

i see you tried to attempted takumi's gutter trick but ended up like the miata...LoL....nice pics! buy a powerball ticket while your luck is still there!

 

Where's the pics of the women, dammit! }

 

<blockquote id="quote"><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica" id="quote">quote:<hr height="1" noshade id="quote">Originally posted by kickin_81

Where's the pics of the women, dammit! }
<hr height="1" noshade id="quote"></blockquote id="quote"></font id="quote">

 

Thanks, I have a new desktop wallpaper now. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

Nihongo desu ne

 

wooooow on the girls.

 

do you have a major in writting? You have some pretty good writing skills going on there. In the middle of the story i thought i was in the middle of a book.

 

International Relations is my major. Yeah.....