I saw the policeman running towards his bike as I overtook the taxi in the centre of town.

I was in Peru heading north towards the Cordillera Blanca. I was going somewhat faster than the speed limit.

Should I just keep going and leave him behind or should I slow down and let him stop me?

He'd never be able to catch me on his smaller bike but if he was able to radio ahead I could end up in deep trouble.

I decided to play safe and slowed down.

A few miles later on I saw him come up behind me and wave me down.

He looked rather angry.

I pulled over and took off my helmet.

He babbled away in Spanish as I quietly slipped into useless gringo mode.

‘Show me your driver's licence'.

My carefully created copy had just come unglued so I had to hand over my real one.

He whipped out his little book of offences.

There were two columns beside each offence. The speeding one he pointed to showed $300 and $150.

He pointed to the $300 saying I had to pay this in US Dollars at the police station 30km away.

I'm now sure they were pesos not US Dollars as they confusingly use the ‘$' character for P esos.

I shrugged.

‘I am very sorry but I didn't realise what the speed limit was and I don't have any money'.

He babbled away again.

It rapidly became apparent that I could get a big discount and avoid travelling 30km in the wrong direction if I paid him in cash right now.

I kept on repeating that ‘I haven't got any money'.

The price kept on dropping.

$150.

$100.

$50.

Things were looking up.

Even though I still had a long way to go I tried to look as unhurried and as relaxed as possible.

I kept on repeating that I had no money.

$30.

He wasn't getting the message.

‘I am not going to pay anything' I said.

He immediately changed his tack from angry cop to friendly, fellow human being but he still had my driver's licence.

‘Are we friends?'

‘Oh yes', I assured him, ‘We are friends'.

‘There is a restaurant over there where they sell chicken and rice'.

I felt a pang of guilt.

‘No'.

‘They have coffee'.

‘No, nothing'.

I felt really guilty, but if I gave in he'd just keep on stopping tourists.

In a last desperate attempt he turned on the hopeful puppy eyes.

‘A coke?'

‘No'.

He sighed, gave me back my licence and started asking me questions about my bike.

I answered politely while putting my helmet on and quickly rode away.

I felt a strange mix of triumph and guilt at the same time.

A few weeks later I later asked my Lima dentist whether a foreigner should pay a speeding fine.

‘No, never'.