One night, I was coming back to the Twin Cities from an event in Shakopee, Minnesota. As I was pulling off the ramp, a cop turned his lights on to pull me over. His reason was that I drifted over to the shoulder a little, but whatever. He didn’t even bother asking for a license or registration. He started off asking, “Whose truck this is, where was I coming from, what was I selling” (even though there’s a big ass sign on the truck that said coffee and donuts). Annoyed and tired, I just told him, “It’s mine, my business, and I own the truck.” I told him to look at the Instagram and articles, which I assume he did because he went back to his car for some time, still without checking my license or registration. When he came back, he said things check out and I can go.
