related by Brian / MOTRSPRT
That reminded me of a similar situation I had with a cop that had pulled me
over.
For some reason, most of the times that I've been pulled over, have been when I
was in my own driveway. This was one of those times.
I was returning from a late night at work. A few co-workers and I had stopped at
Winghouse for some dinner after that long day. I was tired and was just looking
forward to getting home. Most of the ride was uneventful, but things got
interesting during the last mile.
Just as my day was going, I am unlucky enough to get stuck behind a turtle in a
cage. The guy was maybe doing 15 mph, and of course this is a no-passing zone.
Not wanting to add a ticket on top of the rest of the day, I try to keep the
bike upright while following, and wait for the intersection up ahead. I'll be
turning left. Hopefully, Mr. Turtle won't.
No such luck. Mr. Turtle didn't bother to use his signals, and turned left after
the stop. I stop, wait for him to clear the intersection, and make my left turn.
The very instant that the center line becomes a broken yellow, I pass him with
authority.
I remain on the gas for a bit, and pay attention to the road ahead instead of my
speed. So that I have no idea how fast I was going, but it's safe to say that I
exceeded the limit.
Once I get to my street, I turn in, and pull into my driveway. I shut the bike
off, remove my helmet, and go to open the garage door. Then, the police car
shows up. Great. Just what I needed to top off my day.
A stocky female officer steps out of the car and approaches me. She seems to be
out of breath, or else is amped on adrenaline. She asks for my license, then
proceeds to ask me if I know why I was stopped. I plead ignorance.
Officer: "You passed that car in a no passing zone."
Me: "No, I didn't. I specifically made sure I cleared the no passing zone before
passing. In fact, I had been stuck behind him for about a mile before, and
waited until I could legally pass."
Officer: "Well, you passed him pretty quickly. Do you know how fast you were
going?"
Me: "Not really. I was paying more attention to the road ahead than my speed.
How fast was I going?"
(The officer makes her mistake.)
Officer: "You were going a million miles an hour."
(At this point, I figure that a ticket is not in my future, and decide to have a
little fun.)
Me: "That's not possible."
Officer: "Well, it was pretty close."
Me: "No way. Look here. (I point out my speedometer.) I could not have been
doing anywhere near a million miles an hour. The speedometer only goes up to
180."
Officer: "Well, I didn't get you on laser..."
(I'd already guessed that that was the case.)
Officer: "..., so I won't be giving you a ticket. Ride slower.
Me: "I'm home. I won't be riding any more today. Tomorrow's another day."
She was clearly pissed at me, but walked back to her car and left without so
much as issuing me a written warning.
Brian
This is long - so if you have nothing better to do
then enjoy my bad luck.
I got my *ss packed today.
Pick up my RR from the shop for its maintenance.
Bill was high - but as expected.
Service reps were nice - cashier was really nice (and cute!).
Hop on the Blade and get about 5 miles from the dealership and she starts to sputter. Damn - I filled
her up before I took her in. Oh well - flip to reserve and it is really sputtering...must have missed
reserve - I'll pull over and get it right.
Oh, it's on reserve already.
I am on a major road and they are repaving the roads where it runs dry. It is 87 here, and humid. I am
riding attire with my Joe Rocket Ballistic jacket on (my only good fortune b/c I grabbed it instead of
leather). Leaving the bike here is not an option.
So I start pushing my bike and avoiding dump trucks full of asphalt, steam rollers, and the traffic. I
eventually cut through traffic (still pushing) and start pushing up an exit ramp.
Naturally, cars think I'm trying a sneaky motorcycle lane splitting tactic. (???)
After the second car moves over to block my path I
lose it. I cannot move, sweating uncontrollably
with my helmet on - so I put the stand down and walk to the
drivers side.
The window was already up, but I see this frantic woman trying to make sure all blast doors are closed and locked.
I ask her what she thinks I am doing. She ignores me.
I point to my bike - and say "it's broken down - what do you want me to do?"
I was not about to admit I was out of gas, even though it
was *not* my fault. They told me they fixed it.
(read in Hahn Solo here).
I conclude the one sided conversation with the usual
expletives and she eventually musters up the courage to give me the finger.
I then unleash the "C" word on her a few times and she goes for the cell phone.
Eventually, Mrs. C moves along with the rest of the traffic. I continue my pushing. Now I am on a normal road, with no shoulder.
I choose the sidewalk as the safest place to continue my quest for gas.
I am welcomed by a nice down hill slope.
I am home free.
Oh no, nothing is that easy.
Evidently Mrs. C called the police (911 of course).
Up rolls a cop as I am blistering along at 6 mph. I wave to him.
He has his lights on and is going really slow. I wave again.
Surely the cop will understand that I am not driving
on the sidewalk - I am rolling in the safest manner
possible. I had my helmet on for Christ's sake.
I can see the 7-11 with 6 pumps full of my nectar
I so
crave a couple of hundred yards away.
Mmmmm, maybe a slurpee, too!
He gets on his loudspeaker and says "Cease and desist operation of the motorcycle".
It is not operating but I get the idea of what he wants. I try
to do a stoppie but just could not get the rear up at 4mph.
I am about to pass out. I have been pushing for about 1/2 mile, mostly up hill.
The cop does not even ask me what I am doing. Just wants the paperwork.
I oblige him.
He gets back in his air conditioned car and tells me to sit down on the sidewalk (in the sun of course) in his line of vision.
11 minutes later he gets out with his nice big clip board.
"Sir - did you have an encounter with a Toyota Camry about 20 minutes ago?"
I ponder the question.
"What do you mean "encounter"?
"Did you threaten the driver of a Toyota Camry"
"No, I made no threats to anyone".
"Can you describe the encounter?"
"I would not call it an encounter.
"A Toyota Camry blocked me as I was pushing my bike, I informed the
driver that my bike was out of gas
and that she was an idiot for almost hitting me as I pushed my bike."
"I see."
"As I walked away, I was cursing the situation - but did not threaten her. She then gave me the finger and I THEN directly insulted her."
He scowls at me.
"Why are you riding on the sidewalk?"
Thanks for listening. ( Is this guy brain dead?)
"My bike is out of gas."
"Why is it out of gas?" (Really, he IS brain dead?)
I make a fatal mistake right here.
"Because there is not any more gas in the tank".
(Matt - sometimes you just know, before you even say it, that telling the
truth will get you into more trouble)
No sooner than I finish the "k" part of tank, he is on the radio calling for back up, and almost simultaneously a cop from the other direction was going by.
Dammit. I could not resist saying that.
Just so happens the back up dxldo is a shift sergeant or something like that.
They start talking in codes a little away from me.
Sarge walks up to me and radios in that he is on the scene of the "217" or something like that.
I know I am screwed so I might as well go with the smart ass routine. Much more fun for me.
I say "Wow - I got my own number". (217..) No reaction.
He has the clipboard now, he has the power of Greyskull.
Says "Why did you not stop when the officer had his lights on?".
"I did stop".
He looks at the clipboard and glances at the other officer.
"Why is your bike on the sidewalk?"
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Am I in a movie? (I am still sweating profusely.)
"My bike is out of gas."
Come on, ask me why its out of gas. Please god - ask me.....
"Where did you run out?"
Can't I get a break here? Nothing "smartass" comes to mind so I just tell him.
We then go through the whole story, including the fact that I just got it out of the shop.
The brain dead (Mr. Ameba IQ) cop looks like he is
going to pass out now from being in the sun for 10
minutes. Sarge hands the clipboard to Mr. Ameba IQ and points to something specific. Mr. Ameba gets back
in his car.
Sarge asks me if I got the plate of the Toyota. I say
no. He said they will pull the cell phone from the
911 dispatch. I am like "yeah - good idea." (What the fxck does that have to do with anything I am
wondering.)
He rambles on about aggressive driving and how a moped ran from cops today and the rider died and blah blah blah.
He then indicates that I got lucky because Einstein
had already written "failing to stop" and called that code in when requesting back up. Seeing
as how I was out of gas, odds are I would win in court, so they were letting me off. He said I and the
bitch in the Camery will get a letter from the DOT
regarding aggressive driving and may have to go to some class.
Joy.
Gee, thanks officer. I feel so lucky.
Thanks for letting me off a ticket for evading when my bike does
not even have any fxcking gas in it.
They then made me get off the side walk and "escorted" me rolling down the rest of the hill to 7-11.
Where I got that Slurpy.
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