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　　The foaming slope of the wave rushes up， changing color as it
　　
　　DISSOLVES TO:
　　
　　DESERT SAND WHIPPING BY……
　　
　　MOJAVE DESERT – ONE WEEK LATER
　　
　　A big bike， a real big bike， a turbo…… rockets across the desert. Fast. Real fast. Aviator shades low above the handlebars – Maverick. Goose hangs on in back. It cranks faster， pulls closer…… ENGINE SCREAMING. It cranks up a notch， it’’s going to explode. It can’’t go faster， but it does. It SCREAMS HIGHER. It ROARS under， by and away， leaving dust……
　　
　　THE BIKE – STILL
　　
　　Silence. Just the HISS AND POP OF METAL COOLING. Maverick sits on it， staring out past us. Goose looks over Maverick’’s shoulder.
　　
　　We see why. Feet come into the frame. Then the uniform: California Highway Patrol.
　　
　　COUNTRY ROAD – NEAR SAN DIEGO
　　
　　ANGLE ON MAVERICK
　　
　　CHP enters the frame， the usual hypercivil arrogance tinged with awed disbelief. The usual questions are spaced for effect as if he might be talking to some other form of life. Maverick is off the bike， standing at attention. Goose follows more slowly.
　　
　　CHP
　　Son. Do you know why I stopped you？
　　
　　Maverick has some good idea how to deal with authority.
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Yes sir. I do sir
　　
　　The CHP adjusts his own aviator shades.
　　
　　CHP
　　Well…… What is it？
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　（more than sincere）
　　Sir. You are going to give me a warning， Sir!
　　
　　CHP – A touch of a smile， quickly surpressed.
　　
　　CHP
　　License and registration.
　　
　　Maverick hands them over with his Navy ID. CHP scans them， hesitates a moment over the last， looks up with a touch more respect.
　　
　　CHP
　　Lieutenant， do you know how fast you were going？
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Yes sir. I do， Sir.
　　
　　CHP
　　Well？
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Sir. I was going Mach point one five.
　　
　　CHP nods sagely.
　　
　　CHP
　　One SIXTH the speed of sound!
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Yes sir.
　　
　　CHP
　　（a guess）
　　Lieutenant…… What do you…… usually fly？
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　F-14’’s sir.
　　
　　CHP
　　（new respect）
　　Tomcats？
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Yes sir!
　　
　　A long pause. Respect in the cop’’s eyes. He taps the Navy ID on the handlebars…… staring at this sincere young man.
　　
　　CHP
　　Lieutenant…… Is there…… a Russian attack？
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　No sir! But you have to be ready.
　　
　　The cop nods and stares at him.
　　
　　EXT. MIRAMAR NAVAL AIR STATION – LATER
　　
　　The bike is BLURPING…… barely going fast enough to stay upright. Maverick cool in shades and campaign cap dorks past the hanger with the sign: "FIGHTERTOWN， USA". He pulls ahead. In back of him， escorting with flashers…… the CHP. They pull up at the gate. Maverick and Goose salute the guard， hands over their ID. The CHP gets out of his car， leans against the door.
　　
　　CHP
　　Lieutenant.
　　
　　Maverick turns to him.
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Yes， Sergeant？
　　
　　CHP
　　Remember one thing.
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Sir？
　　
　　CHP
　　Outside of this gate…… I…… am Top Gun.
　　
　　MAVERICK
　　Yes sir!
　　
　　He salutes. The CHP returns a snappy one. He gets back in his car and turns away. Maverick receives his ID and clearance. As he passes through， a couple of pilots in flight suits （ICE AND HOLLYWOOD） stare at him. The taller， dark， cool one speaks in a dry voice， meant to be overheard.
　　
　　ICE
　　Uh oh， police escort. This one must be a real killer.