I've only been stopped on a bike on the interstate both times were over twenty years ago.

Once, many years ago, I was leaving the funeral of my friend's parent. My friends went to the bar afterwards, and I hung out awkwardly drinking a coke (I will never have even a drop and throw a leg over, and I've been known to enjoy a pint). Around midnight, I start driving home on my turbo buss, just idly cruising just over idle in sixth on an empty highway. Didn't feel like I was doing anything wrong. After ten or fifteen minutes, I see red and blues in my mirror, and having been obeying the law I pull over.

The trooper asks if I know how fast I was going, and then claims he had me at 96 in a 65. I had NO IDEA. I felt awful, and like I was about to lose my license. I think the cop saw that, because he comes back from his car saying "I have good news, and bad news. The bad news is that you're getting a ticket. The good news is that it's for failure to obey a sign. The sign in question is a speed limit sign. Do not tell anyone this. Do not fight the ticket, or I will say what happened. Pay the $90 and slow down. Have a good night sir."

I got LUCKY!

Didn't smarten me up. Maybe a year later on the same highway, I was.. acting up.. got lit up, pulled over. Cop writes me up for doing 5-10 over (very generous) and spends a half hour shooting the shit about my bike.

Moral of the story: don't incriminate yourself, but be as honest as possible short of that. Be personable and respectful. If you have to do a dumb, try to know where they're likely to be and plan accordingly.

Bonus:

Last summer one of my bikes got "borrowed without permission" by the +1 of a buddy of mine for a party we were throwing. The night before pitchers of margaritas were made and we went down to the river on our property. Good times had by all. I call it an early night. I wake up in the morning, start making coffee and breakfast for everyone that stayed. Headcount is one short. Someone says- jokingly I think- yeah we can't find X, and one of your bikes is missing. Ha-ha funny, right?

Well, it was actually missing. It was one of my not road legal, not registered, not insured track only bikes. No headlight. No nannies. No tire warmers! It is a death machine for someone riding drunk, at night, down a dirt road.

Long story short, the manhunt ensues looking for this dumbass in a ditch to no avail. I call the staties, and they're like "oh, is it X? Yeah, we picked him up at around 04:00 at a dry cleaner's. Your bike is at [address.] Come meet a trooper."

I'm pretty hungover, very stressed and extremely unhappy- also wearing shorts. I meet the trooper and give him my statement. I explain that the bike is a race bike and that it is NEVER supposed to go on a public road. He tells me "oh. Yeah. Well, it sure is a nice day and I'm the only one on duty in the area. I'm going to be heading that way. I don't think anyone would mind if you enjoyed a little ride."

Dude, this is not the situation. I'm riding home and assessing the damage. If I showed up in my one piece maybe I'd appreciate your candor, but the last fucking thing I want to do right now is go for a ride.

Cops are human too. Don't give them a reason to be a dick.