Rural TX, early 1980's. I was a broke college student driving a $300 car I just bought. A throughly rusted out Plymouth Volare. I go to the tax office and get my new plates and install them. One week later on I-10 in rural Chambers Co. I drive along happily then a sherriff starts tailgating me. Unnerving to be a car length behind me at highway speeds. Lights come on. I signal and ease over. I don't know why I am stopped.
In a blink the red faced crazy cop gets out screaming at me like a maniac to "show my hands" with his pistol pointed right at me. I am terrified. I put my hands up begging the cop to not shoot me. I tell him I'll do whatever he says, but PLEASE don't shoot me, I haven't done anything.
After making me turn around and lean over the hood he looks inside my car, see nothing. Starts demanding to know "where my weapon is". I tell him I am totally unarmed. I have nothing. No weapon, no drugs, no alcohol, nothing. Then he starts screaming at me demanding where did I steal the car from? I tell him I just bought it, I have reciepts and everything. Then he starts screaming at me demanding "so where did I steal the plates from?" I told him I paid for them at the Tax Office. He screamed at me LIAR!!!
He leans over me demanding I tell him "so why don't the plates match the car then"? I tell him I dont know what he means by that. He says the plates belong to a Chevy and I am driving a Plymouth, so explain THAT! I tell him I can't but I did not steal anything. Those were the plates I was given. He cools down a bit and writes me a ticket for "displaying fictious plates" that costs me hundreds. I see the Judge later and despite me being 100% respectful they treated me like trash. Judge demands I (not them) figure out what was wrong with the plates.
I have to drive back to Jeferson Co. tax office and tell them the plates don't work. Computers were in their infancy then, and the clerk ended up mis-keying the plate number in the system when she issued them to me. It was off by just one number. I return to Chambers Co. and see the Judge again. He screams at me when I tell him what happened, and tells me to drive back and get him a written statement from the clerk. He didn't mention that earlier. I did, and finally the ordeal was over.
Point is, despite what I feel was terrible behavior from the cops then, and even with the real possibility they could have ended my life on the side of the road, I kept my cool and stayed respectful throughout the whole thing. Point is, it is possible to do. Do not fight the cops. Don't challenge or provolk them. Comply to their demands, even if they are wrong. Then again, I am not a multi-millionaire NFL diva. Sort it out afterwards. Much easier to do today than it was years ago.