When I was 19 my room mate just got a year old gsxr 750 from the local coke dealer for cheap who used to run from the cops on it. He kept getting lit up so decided to get rid of it. It was red instead of white or blue so stood out.
I was riding it a few days after he bought it and didn't have my license and the bike wasn't tagged yet, but had insurance. I passed a cop, and as soon as I passed he slammed on the brakes and hit his lights. It was night and lit up everything around me. I knew immediately who he thought I was. Rather than stopping amd dealing with that shit, I said fuck it and dropped two gears and pinned it. I flew by my house and down a side road, into a new neighborhood and into a garage of a house being built and closed the door.
I had multiple calls and texts from my room mate. I explained what happened and he said he was on the porch and heard me screaming down the road and thought I was going on a speed run, until the cop passed......a good 30 seconds later. I never looked at the speedo but he said I was easily doing 120 when I passed. Again this was super late on a country road and literally no one else was on it.
My roomie garaged the bike until we could take it to the used bike shop and he traded it in on the same bike but in black. That bike ended up getting stolen twice and not recovered the second time. He has shitty luck with bikes.