I have a few billion as well, bein' as how I've been riding since the 1960's...
I was on my cafe'd CB550-4, bikini fairing, clubman's, nice pipe, I raced the bike on many occasions so it was nicely setup. But this day (late evening actually) I was returning from a Porsche club meeting at Riverside (CA) raceway where a friend had been playing. It was late, I was in a hurry to get home, and I was doing a buck twenty (or so) when I realized I'd just blown through a merge of two major freeways where there was ALWAYS an LEO watching.
A glance in the mirrors told me that there had indeed been an officer there, and now he was in hot pursuit. Without touching the binders I backed 'er down, arriving at the posted limit just as he got within 'tracking' distance. As expected, he turned on the lights, and I dutifully pulled over and parked. I knew the worst he could do was right me up for some 'estimated' speed, and was bound and determined to get off with less if I could.
Young guy, gets out of his patrol car and walks up, his eyes fixed on my rear tire, shaking his head. I went back and looked myself, wondering if there was a problem. The officer laughs, holding up his hand to refuse my license and registration. 'Don't need to see those, you were down to the limit before I caught up.' he says. 'I just can't believe you were going - uh - bloody fast and had no problem with the rain grooves back there at the merge.' Hmmm... 'Uh... well...' I stammered. He looked down again, shining his flashlight on my tire. Nothing special, a Dunlop K81 I think.
He turned off the light and clapped me on the shoulder. 'You be careful, and keep your speed down will ya?' he said, turning around and walking back to his cruiser.
Luck beats good. Every time.