Angus, I am truly impressed - (and every time I read your name I hear faint tones of bagpipes)
The only run-in I had with a street cop was shortly after we moved back to San Francisco in 1942 from Paso Robles. I was on Balboa Street with my bike and the street cop came over to me, called me "Girlie" (ugh) and told me I'd better get a license or I'd be in real trouble and lose my bike - almost made me cry - I was ten years old. I didn't like him much. Actually, I didn't know I needed a license and Mom got me one when I told her.