About a year ago I put my skis on the trailer as I was done for the day.  I saw a couple of watercops getting ready for their day, in the parking lot.
So, me & Phill are minding our own business and start tying things down.
I could see it coming - I just knew Buford T. Justice was gonna stroll over.  Btw, I am not making this Buford T. Justice thing up - that's how he looked, talked, and walked.
And he spent close to 20 minutes yapping and yapping and yapping.  The first thing he complained about were my reg numbers.  They didn't match what WA State wants.  Not block letters, no good contrast.
But he wasn't "giving me a hard time, really" 

 but wanted to warn me because other officers might not be as lenient.
Things could have been fine from here on out, but his silent partner muttered: "I can't read'em", whereupon my wife, in all her wise-assery replied:  "Well, 
I can see them just fine.
Here we go. 

Now Silent Bob and Buford thought we was callin' them blind.
And so he did more talking - LOTS more talking.  Speaking of all them dang Seadoo-hot-doggers, with the loud exhaust and all.
Looking to make conversation a bit easier, I explained to him the concepts of a waterbox, dry pipes,and wetpipes.
I was afraid he was going to start flinging me ******** about my ski being loud.  (Pretty dry B-pipe, front exhaust).
Then he starts complimenting me on my "quiet ski".  :bigeyes: :biggthumpup: