... I saw a chap on a nice orange dirt bike behind me. He slotted in fairly close on my RHS, but I figured he wanted to ride together. So far so good. Then, he started closing up. I accelerated to create a gap, and he accelerated again. I accelerated once more, then he drew level with me, eyeballed me, and pointed to the side of the road. At this point I thought he was some sort of nutter, but I stopped, dismounted, and asked him what the hell he wanted ... just as he pointed to the flashing lights on the tail of his bike, and VicPol sticker and so-forth on his helmet. Long story, short form, he just wanted to ask why the hell I didn't have a license plate on the back. He was happy to see it in the map pouch of my tank-bag, and accepted that I was on my way to work from VicRoads having just registered the bike. Funny thing is: I saw him and his bike very early on, but simply didn't notice the porcine paraphernalia until he brought it to my attention. Funny how the brain focuses on the stuff it thinks it was important. I think, if I'd been speeding, I'd have been a lot quicker to notice that he was a cop.