Retrospective reflection on a moment of "white privilege".

It was summer of 1980. Ray Gun had just gained control and the "Moral Majority" idiots were riding their high horses.
I had finished putting together a wrecked Yamaha 650 twin out of a couple wrecked ones from the junkyard. I was itching to take a weekend ride. So from So Cali, I headed I-15 north, then I-70 west. I had taken Monday off so I could take a good junket. Saturday, after a tent night in the desert, I crossed over the Utah line.
Uh, Oh, here he came in a tire squealing police turn on the highway to stop that longhaired, slightly dark skinned motorcyclist in my Glacier glasses and California plates. I recognized right away that having my pink triangle button in view as he approached was probably not a point in my favor either.
He demanded me to kickstand my bike, yelled at me to stand at "attention" facing the road at a place about 10 feet away facing the road. I complied. He proceeded to dismantle my packframe, another backpack and my sleeping bag. He was intentionally throwing items of clothing into the muddy bog roadside as he pretended he was looking for drugs. The frustration this guy was experiencing at not finding any contraband was palpable. I had a suspicion he'd try to plant something, but one thing, I believe, stopped that effort. On the backpack full of first aid items I had my EMT patch. That troubled him. It wouldn't look good planting something into a medical professional's stuff. He stopped there, had more moments of wavering frustration, walked over, demanded my license and registration, I made sure my star of life card was also visible to him as I did, he "inspected" them and handed back to me in a second or so, finally yelled something akin to "watch your driving" as he turned to stomp back, slamming his oversized cop car door and spun the wheels taking off.
Now, three strikes against me with this older, grey haired, overweight and likely CONSERVATIVE "cough" "officer" "ahem" made me wonder... I wasn't speeding. I wasn't handling the bike in any questionable manner. What made him stop me in such an emergent manner?
And what likely would have happened had I also been black?