I earned my 'nickname' @ a scalehouse in Montana in the '70's before they had commercial vehicle enforcement. The scalemaster was a handicapped character, loved giving every driver he could crap and sometimes at night, he'd operate the scalehouse with no lights on inside.
It was snowing, I turned off all my marker lights about two miles from the scalehouse. He was hiding behind his darkened windows watching a bright set of (aircraft landing)lights low flying into 'his' weigh station.
Staying left of the scale pad, the snow was billowing out from under my rig. My KW was Appliance white and I was moving through the lot at 85 MPH, he didnt so much as get a license plate number(Neither did any one else for that matter)
About a week after returning from Peace River Alberta, one of the local MHP's stopped at the truckstop in town, came over & sat with us. He'd known me since I was a kid & after some
ting around he casually mentioned something about the scalemasters experience the week before.
12 people sitting at the table broke out in laughter (MHP included)! None of the guys knew who had done it. The patrolman when on saying that the only thing ol scalemaster saw was 'some very bright lights coming at me' and ducked behind his counter thinking he was about to die, HAHAHA!
Finishing his coffee, the patrolman remarked that the State of Montana should hire whoever it was, to sweep the snow off the scalehouse lot on a regular basis. The swathe left in the snow was plain as day when he arrived there at daylight. That patrolman kept looking at me.
I think he knew damn well who it was.My ex-wife commented after he left that whoever it was, they were going to be in trouble if he found out. Getting her & the kids in the truck to go south with me, I told her "It was me Honey". She damn near fell out the cab laughing & hung the handle 'streetsweeper' on me.