Years ago, my brother-in-law and two of his cousins (all in their late teens at the time) were on a summer road trip from New Orleans to visit Grandma's ranch in California. They were stopped on a highway in Texas by three troopers in two state police cruisers who boxed them in and, with guns drawn, made them get out of the car. One of the troopers shouted "where are the guns". My brother in law replies "they're in the trunk" (they had three or four rifles in cases packed behind a load of clothes and an ice chest). Well, after a little more shouting, some confusion, and stained underpants, it turned out that they pretty well matched the description of three guys who had robbed a convenience store about a half hour earlier. After it was all sorted out, the troopers sent them on the way with handshakes and apologies.