Recently, I've been curious about something. I've received a few verbal and written kudos about this little experiment 'o mine. The majority of them have been from folks I never would have suspected would read this thing. Thus, I am led to ask a favor....
If you would be so kind, please leave a comment on this post. You can do so anonymously if you are so inclined. I'm just curious how many people read the blog. It doesn't matter what you say. You can write gibberish for all I care...that isn't to say I wouldn't welcome any comment you choose to write, just don't feel obligated to say anything in particular.
If you aren't particularly interested in leaving a comment, you can also 'follow' the blog (again, you can do so anonymously) by clicking on the 'follow this blog' down the right side of the page.
And, lastly, I recently registered the blog on blogged.com. You can search blogs by topic or keyword. If you search for 'motorcop', mine will be the only one (so far) that pops up. If you have the time and/or the inclination, you can rate the blog, leave a comment, etc.
Thanks for taking the time and thanks for reading.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Not particularly Law Enforcement related...but still...
I logged on to my email server just now and was greeted with the "headlines" in the news. The first? "Global Warming 'irreversible' for 1,000 years." Scary, right? Know what's scarier? The second "Headline". "Ashlee Simpson blasts insults about sister's weight."
It's no wonder this world is fucked.
Hey, here's an idea....why don't we launch Ashlee Simpson's no talent ass into the O-Zone. Maybe that will cut the 1,000 year estimate in half.
Who's on board?
It's no wonder this world is fucked.
Hey, here's an idea....why don't we launch Ashlee Simpson's no talent ass into the O-Zone. Maybe that will cut the 1,000 year estimate in half.
Who's on board?
This was too good to wait to post...
About a half hour ago, I was sitting on a court off a minor thoroughfare watching for the usual violations. Lo and behold, I see a driver on a cell phone. I stopped him and the exchange went something like this.
MC: Do you know why I stopped you?
Driver: No.
MC: You were on the cell phone.
Driver: No, I wasn't.
MC: Really? What were you holding up to your head?
Driver: I don't know what you're talking about. I wasn't on the cell phone.
MC: Huh. Tell you what. Let's check your call log and if I was wrong we'll part ways with my apologies.
Driver: (Pause).
MC: Why don't you hand me your phone.
Driver: I don't even have my cell phone today.
MC: Hmm. Know what? I find that hard to believe in this day and age.
Driver: I don't have it.
MC: Okay. So, you don't mind if I look in your car for it then? If it's not in there, obviously I must be mistaken.
Driver: (Pause).
MC: See, now the longer you wait to respond leads me to believe you're not being honest with me. I think I'm going to find your cell phone.
Driver: Seriously, I don't have it.
MC: Okay. I'm done. Give me your license and registration. You're getting a ticket.
Driver: For what?
MC: Talking on a cell phone.
Driver: I WASN'T!!
MC: I'm not going to debate this with you. You are welcome to go to court. Give me your license.
Driver: (pause)
MC: Where is your cell phone, because I'm going to look for it.
Driver: Right here. (Indicates under his leg).
MC: You straight lied to me! Are you kidding me? Do I look like a moron to you? (Believe it or not, no one has ever answered that question...)
Driver: Do you know who I...
MC: I don't care who you are or who you know. But, I'm about to find out who you are. Give me your license, please. My patience is quickly diminishing.
Driver: (hands me license).
MC: (for sake of anonymity...) Oh, you're Babe Ruth.
Driver: I know. (Like that was going to excuse the violation.
MC: And who is Babe Ruth (knowing full well who Babe Ruth is).
Driver: I played for the Yankees back in the day.
MC: Oh. I'm a college football fan. Sorry.
Driver: Can you just give me a break?
MC: Absolutely not. Not after you straight lied to me.
Driver: I wasn't saying that I wasn't on my phone.
MC: YES, YOU DID!
Driver: Listen, I can't get another ticket for this.
MC: Yeah, well, you're gonna.
**writing ticket**
Driver: (gets out of car to 'chat') Can I...?
MC: Nope. Get back in your car.
Driver: But...
MC: Seriously. All you're doing right now is irritating me further. I'm giving you a legal order to get back in your vehicle.
Driver: (I swear he hung his head and shuffled back dejectedly to his very large SUV).
MC: (back up to the car) Before you launch into whatever you have to say, and I'm more than willing to listen to (expecting excellent blog fodder), I need you to sign this first.
Driver: I just think this is ridiculous
MC: To be honest, had you been honest with me and said, "Here's my phone, feel free to check my call log", I probably would've given you a warning (internal chuckle). But, I hate, literally hate, being lied to. It irritates the heck (not the word in my head) out of me.
Driver: I think the problem was whether I was listening to my voicemail or whatever.
**What's that? You fucking moron? Oh, you were checking your voicemail. Check it out...IT'S THE SAME FUCKING THING!!! ARGH!!!**
MC: It's the same violation. Just like having it on speakerphone and holding it in your hand. Kind of defeats the purpose of "hands free". The section is very specific. It doesn't matter if you're talking or listening. It's the same violation.
Driver: I was just accessing my voicemail.
MC: Ok, well, it's not a moving violation...(go on to explain typical court stuff)
Driver: Yeah, but it's just gonna cause me so much problems.
MC: It's nobody's fault but your own. You understand that, right?
Driver: I live right down the road.
MC: There's no exception in the section that says "unless you're a mile from your house". I need you to sign the highlighted portion.
Driver: You can't give me a break?
**Still? Have you not paid any attention to me at all? No way in hell am I giving you a break, you dipshit liar.
MC: Absolutely not. Not after being lied to. It's not going to happen. I don't know what else to tell you. If there was some other language or way in which I could convey to you that is not going to change, I would, but I can't. So, do me a favor and just sign the ticket.
I love the fact that I carry a digital recorder. It makes transcribing a dream. The above is nearly verbatim of our exchange. Un-fucking-believable.
Babe drives a nice big SUV. Babe lives in a VERY nice area. Babe is retired from Major League Baseball. Babe can't scrape together cash for a fucking cell phone ticket? Come on...loser. Not to mention he lied to me. Repeatedly.
I said to myself, out loud, I am going right back to blog about this right now. I swear....it's on the recorder.
Cheers...
MC: Do you know why I stopped you?
Driver: No.
MC: You were on the cell phone.
Driver: No, I wasn't.
MC: Really? What were you holding up to your head?
Driver: I don't know what you're talking about. I wasn't on the cell phone.
MC: Huh. Tell you what. Let's check your call log and if I was wrong we'll part ways with my apologies.
Driver: (Pause).
MC: Why don't you hand me your phone.
Driver: I don't even have my cell phone today.
MC: Hmm. Know what? I find that hard to believe in this day and age.
Driver: I don't have it.
MC: Okay. So, you don't mind if I look in your car for it then? If it's not in there, obviously I must be mistaken.
Driver: (Pause).
MC: See, now the longer you wait to respond leads me to believe you're not being honest with me. I think I'm going to find your cell phone.
Driver: Seriously, I don't have it.
MC: Okay. I'm done. Give me your license and registration. You're getting a ticket.
Driver: For what?
MC: Talking on a cell phone.
Driver: I WASN'T!!
MC: I'm not going to debate this with you. You are welcome to go to court. Give me your license.
Driver: (pause)
MC: Where is your cell phone, because I'm going to look for it.
Driver: Right here. (Indicates under his leg).
MC: You straight lied to me! Are you kidding me? Do I look like a moron to you? (Believe it or not, no one has ever answered that question...)
Driver: Do you know who I...
MC: I don't care who you are or who you know. But, I'm about to find out who you are. Give me your license, please. My patience is quickly diminishing.
Driver: (hands me license).
MC: (for sake of anonymity...) Oh, you're Babe Ruth.
Driver: I know. (Like that was going to excuse the violation.
MC: And who is Babe Ruth (knowing full well who Babe Ruth is).
Driver: I played for the Yankees back in the day.
MC: Oh. I'm a college football fan. Sorry.
Driver: Can you just give me a break?
MC: Absolutely not. Not after you straight lied to me.
Driver: I wasn't saying that I wasn't on my phone.
MC: YES, YOU DID!
Driver: Listen, I can't get another ticket for this.
MC: Yeah, well, you're gonna.
**writing ticket**
Driver: (gets out of car to 'chat') Can I...?
MC: Nope. Get back in your car.
Driver: But...
MC: Seriously. All you're doing right now is irritating me further. I'm giving you a legal order to get back in your vehicle.
Driver: (I swear he hung his head and shuffled back dejectedly to his very large SUV).
MC: (back up to the car) Before you launch into whatever you have to say, and I'm more than willing to listen to (expecting excellent blog fodder), I need you to sign this first.
Driver: I just think this is ridiculous
MC: To be honest, had you been honest with me and said, "Here's my phone, feel free to check my call log", I probably would've given you a warning (internal chuckle). But, I hate, literally hate, being lied to. It irritates the heck (not the word in my head) out of me.
Driver: I think the problem was whether I was listening to my voicemail or whatever.
**What's that? You fucking moron? Oh, you were checking your voicemail. Check it out...IT'S THE SAME FUCKING THING!!! ARGH!!!**
MC: It's the same violation. Just like having it on speakerphone and holding it in your hand. Kind of defeats the purpose of "hands free". The section is very specific. It doesn't matter if you're talking or listening. It's the same violation.
Driver: I was just accessing my voicemail.
MC: Ok, well, it's not a moving violation...(go on to explain typical court stuff)
Driver: Yeah, but it's just gonna cause me so much problems.
MC: It's nobody's fault but your own. You understand that, right?
Driver: I live right down the road.
MC: There's no exception in the section that says "unless you're a mile from your house". I need you to sign the highlighted portion.
Driver: You can't give me a break?
**Still? Have you not paid any attention to me at all? No way in hell am I giving you a break, you dipshit liar.
MC: Absolutely not. Not after being lied to. It's not going to happen. I don't know what else to tell you. If there was some other language or way in which I could convey to you that is not going to change, I would, but I can't. So, do me a favor and just sign the ticket.
I love the fact that I carry a digital recorder. It makes transcribing a dream. The above is nearly verbatim of our exchange. Un-fucking-believable.
Babe drives a nice big SUV. Babe lives in a VERY nice area. Babe is retired from Major League Baseball. Babe can't scrape together cash for a fucking cell phone ticket? Come on...loser. Not to mention he lied to me. Repeatedly.
I said to myself, out loud, I am going right back to blog about this right now. I swear....it's on the recorder.
Cheers...
Random Education (or Rant...you know, whatever)
Lately, I've had so many random thoughts swirling around in my head and I find myself in the midst of doing something else, so I lose track of reminding myself to make note of them to share with you, my adoring public (and by that I mostly mean the Wife and Mom...and maybe HM (admit it!)). The point being that the following post will by no means have a flow because I can't be bothered to separate them all into individual posts. Deal with it.
To be fair, I'm sitting at the PD and it's too cold at the moment to go out and harass the poor, unsuspecting citizens, so I thought I'd make use of their fine taxpayer money to bitch about them. Makes solid fiscal sense to me. And for those of you to the North and East about to comment about how it really isn't cold and I'm a wuss for whining....I don't see your asses out there in 35 degree mornings riding a Motor, so shut up.
Without further ado...
It's a Lidar, ya tard, not a Radar. It seems no matter how many times or different ways I explain either at the scene or in court to the person I cited, they just don't seem to get it. This is the 21st century. Radar is for cars. If you're in a group of 40 cars, and you're far enough away (giving me enough time), I can tell you how fast each individual car is going. Radar picks up the biggest reflective object. Give me a box truck and a motorcycle, the Radar picks up the box truck. The Lidar is target specific and wicked accurate. At 1000', the beam is only about three feet wide. So, yeah. It was you I got speeding. We both know it, so stop your bitching.
Another thing...I don't "clock" anyone. Who am I? Flavor fucking Flav? Do you see a giant clock around my neck? Oh, you don't? Well then. I'm sure back in 1960, they used clocks to determine speed (fps...feet per second which can then be mathematically calculated to miles per hour). But, check it out, that was almost 50 fucking years ago. Did you know both women and black folks can vote now? I swear it's true. Amazing, huh? Oh, and we've been to the moon.
Is there a reason I go to traffic court so damn often? Not that I mind! On my days off, I get paid OT ($60/hr) to go. It's four hours of pay for less than five minutes of work. No worries. Here's the thing though. Let's assume you are the defendant. You have to take time off to go to the arraignment. If you plead not guilty, you have to take time off again for the trial. Something to be aware of, here. I've been to traffic court well in excess of 150 times. I'm familiar with it. I can count on one hand how many cases I've lost. Not because the defendant won, mind you. A couple of times, the Traffic & Engineering Survey (required to use a Lidar) expired, deeming the area a 'speed trap' (more on that in a minute). The other reason I've lost is because it was a cite issued based on a collision report and my witness couldn't get to court, so since I didn't witness the collision, my testimony would be hearsay..ergo, dismissed. All your fantasies of winning against me are just that. Fantasies. I know it sounds arrogant, but I'm just trying to save you some time.
Your last ditch hope is that I won't show up for court. If the cop doesn't show, it's an automatic dismissal. I've missed one or two in the last five years and that was because I forgot (poor planning on my part). Would you pass up nearly $250 for five minutes of your time? Exactly.
Ok. "Speed Trap". What a misnomer. There is actually a Vehicle Code definition of a speed trap. I alluded to it above. The Town has a number of Traffic & Engineering Surveys that basically justify the posted speed limit. It has to do with the 85th percentile speed being within 7 MPH of the posted speed limit. If it's greater than that or the Survey is expired, the area is deemed a speed trap. My point is a speed trap is not where we "hide" to "trap" you for speeding. More often than not, I sit in full view of traffic. Don't blame me cause you've got your head in a dark, smelly place and don't see me. I don't know how many times I've told people, "I wasn't in your car pushing your foot down on the gas." Make no mistake...as the title of this blog indicates, if I stop you, you deserve it (it's your fault).
There are some websites about "speed traps" and where to find them (the idiot definition of a speed trap, not the legal one). I was just perusing one when I clicked on an ad for a former officer that gives you advice on how to beat the ticket. The minimum fee is $100, plus document processing fee of $149. If my math holds up, that looks to be about $249. You know what the typical fine is for speeding? In my experience, less than $200. Awesome. Fight away.
Should be warming up a little by now...off to fight the good fight.
To be fair, I'm sitting at the PD and it's too cold at the moment to go out and harass the poor, unsuspecting citizens, so I thought I'd make use of their fine taxpayer money to bitch about them. Makes solid fiscal sense to me. And for those of you to the North and East about to comment about how it really isn't cold and I'm a wuss for whining....I don't see your asses out there in 35 degree mornings riding a Motor, so shut up.
Without further ado...
It's a Lidar, ya tard, not a Radar. It seems no matter how many times or different ways I explain either at the scene or in court to the person I cited, they just don't seem to get it. This is the 21st century. Radar is for cars. If you're in a group of 40 cars, and you're far enough away (giving me enough time), I can tell you how fast each individual car is going. Radar picks up the biggest reflective object. Give me a box truck and a motorcycle, the Radar picks up the box truck. The Lidar is target specific and wicked accurate. At 1000', the beam is only about three feet wide. So, yeah. It was you I got speeding. We both know it, so stop your bitching.
Another thing...I don't "clock" anyone. Who am I? Flavor fucking Flav? Do you see a giant clock around my neck? Oh, you don't? Well then. I'm sure back in 1960, they used clocks to determine speed (fps...feet per second which can then be mathematically calculated to miles per hour). But, check it out, that was almost 50 fucking years ago. Did you know both women and black folks can vote now? I swear it's true. Amazing, huh? Oh, and we've been to the moon.
Is there a reason I go to traffic court so damn often? Not that I mind! On my days off, I get paid OT ($60/hr) to go. It's four hours of pay for less than five minutes of work. No worries. Here's the thing though. Let's assume you are the defendant. You have to take time off to go to the arraignment. If you plead not guilty, you have to take time off again for the trial. Something to be aware of, here. I've been to traffic court well in excess of 150 times. I'm familiar with it. I can count on one hand how many cases I've lost. Not because the defendant won, mind you. A couple of times, the Traffic & Engineering Survey (required to use a Lidar) expired, deeming the area a 'speed trap' (more on that in a minute). The other reason I've lost is because it was a cite issued based on a collision report and my witness couldn't get to court, so since I didn't witness the collision, my testimony would be hearsay..ergo, dismissed. All your fantasies of winning against me are just that. Fantasies. I know it sounds arrogant, but I'm just trying to save you some time.
Your last ditch hope is that I won't show up for court. If the cop doesn't show, it's an automatic dismissal. I've missed one or two in the last five years and that was because I forgot (poor planning on my part). Would you pass up nearly $250 for five minutes of your time? Exactly.
Ok. "Speed Trap". What a misnomer. There is actually a Vehicle Code definition of a speed trap. I alluded to it above. The Town has a number of Traffic & Engineering Surveys that basically justify the posted speed limit. It has to do with the 85th percentile speed being within 7 MPH of the posted speed limit. If it's greater than that or the Survey is expired, the area is deemed a speed trap. My point is a speed trap is not where we "hide" to "trap" you for speeding. More often than not, I sit in full view of traffic. Don't blame me cause you've got your head in a dark, smelly place and don't see me. I don't know how many times I've told people, "I wasn't in your car pushing your foot down on the gas." Make no mistake...as the title of this blog indicates, if I stop you, you deserve it (it's your fault).
There are some websites about "speed traps" and where to find them (the idiot definition of a speed trap, not the legal one). I was just perusing one when I clicked on an ad for a former officer that gives you advice on how to beat the ticket. The minimum fee is $100, plus document processing fee of $149. If my math holds up, that looks to be about $249. You know what the typical fine is for speeding? In my experience, less than $200. Awesome. Fight away.
Should be warming up a little by now...off to fight the good fight.
Another Tip-o-the-Day
Let me ask you a question. What part of telling the nice Officer that stopped you for speeding that you are on medication seems like either: a) a good idea or b) a legitimate defense for speeding?
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say when a doctor prescribes medication he does not say, "Now this is going to make you feel a bit drowsy, so go ahead and pick your speed up while you're driving. Although you are drowsy, your perception/reaction time is oddly heightened. Weird, right?"
Some knucklehead lady actually used the medication excuse with me yesterday. I said something to the effect of, "So, you want me to arrest you for driving under the influence is what you're telling me right now?" (Don't worry, she wasn't deuce...but that doesn't mean I can't have my fun, now does it?)
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say when a doctor prescribes medication he does not say, "Now this is going to make you feel a bit drowsy, so go ahead and pick your speed up while you're driving. Although you are drowsy, your perception/reaction time is oddly heightened. Weird, right?"
Some knucklehead lady actually used the medication excuse with me yesterday. I said something to the effect of, "So, you want me to arrest you for driving under the influence is what you're telling me right now?" (Don't worry, she wasn't deuce...but that doesn't mean I can't have my fun, now does it?)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
It was a good day...
Time it takes to prepare cites in the morning: 10 minutes
Cost of two C batteries to run Lidar: $8
Time it takes to fully charge now-dead portable radio: overnight
Making 22 citizens realize they suck at driving: priceless.
Cost of two C batteries to run Lidar: $8
Time it takes to fully charge now-dead portable radio: overnight
Making 22 citizens realize they suck at driving: priceless.
Kudos to Jean!!
I wish I had some sort of door prize to award to one of my readers! Jean submitted a cartoon to me (which I dutifully posted immediately) and said it reminded her of us blogger-types. I laughed out loud...especially since I've actually said the very same thing before.
Thank you, Jean! You made me smile early in the morning!
Thank you, Jean! You made me smile early in the morning!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Honesty. Where hath thou gone?
Listen, I'm not solving the Hoffa case or JFK's assassination. I get that. I'm aware. But in my little corner of the world, I'm doing what I can to make the streets safer for you, the motoring public....regardless of what your opinion of me is. So, when I pull you over for whatever the violation, would it be so bad to just admit what you did? Apparently, someone thought it was...
I was riding in one direction on a two-lane roadway. I passed a vehicle traveling in the opposite direction. The car was literally less than 20' from me. I could see the silver buckle from his seat belt hanging against the door post. Not a big mystery. I made a U-turn and pulled the car over. The driver is now wearing his seat belt. I asked him if he knew why I stopped him. He said, "No." I told him he wasn't wearing his seat belt. And here is where it gets irritating.
The driver looks down at his seat belt, which he is obviously wearing. He is about to comment on that fact and I jump ahead of him and ask for his license and registration. He gave it to me without comment. I walk back and scratch out the cite. I went back to the car, hand him the cite book and asked him to sign the citation. The rest went a little something like this...
Driver: But, I'm wearing it.
MC: (knowing he was itching to say that very thing). Listen, you and I both know you weren't wearing it when we passed each other and then you put it on. So how about you lose the incredulous look on your face and sign the ticket. If you don't like it, you can go to court, but I'm not buying the "I was wearing it" defense. And just so you know, I was going to just give you a warning if you told me the truth, but you decided to go the other way.
Driver: (as I'm walking away...and just loud enough for me to hear) Thanks, dick.
MC: (trying to maintain composure) What's that tough guy?
Driver: (shame facedly) Nothing.
MC: Yeah, ok. Ass.
Folks, what the hell is wrong with you? And I mean the broad "you" not you specifically. Unless of course you are the driver in the above scenario. In which case I have this to say to you. Fuck you, you pussy. If you have something to say, why don't you grab your tiny little balls, man up, and say your piece. Don't mutter something under your breath and then not repeat same to my face, you bitch.
Wow. That was harsh. In my defense, I get sick and f'n tired of people pitching a fit over some violation that is obviously their fault. In all honesty (no pun intended), I had every intention of giving this jackhole a warning had he simply been honest and admitted his mistake. I hate liars.
Now I'm well aware of what my job entails. On the other hand, I write so many damn tickets, I have no problem giving the occasional break for someone who is either honest or makes me laugh. If you can get me to chuckle, odds are I'll cut you a break.
For example, one particular stop many moons ago, I stopped a kid for speeding. I don't remember how fast he was going, but he was moving at a decent clip. I walked up to the car and asked him if he knew why I stopped him. His response? "I fucked up." Honesty and he made me laugh. Kid got a break.
So, please, for both of our benefits...can't you just tell the truth?
I was riding in one direction on a two-lane roadway. I passed a vehicle traveling in the opposite direction. The car was literally less than 20' from me. I could see the silver buckle from his seat belt hanging against the door post. Not a big mystery. I made a U-turn and pulled the car over. The driver is now wearing his seat belt. I asked him if he knew why I stopped him. He said, "No." I told him he wasn't wearing his seat belt. And here is where it gets irritating.
The driver looks down at his seat belt, which he is obviously wearing. He is about to comment on that fact and I jump ahead of him and ask for his license and registration. He gave it to me without comment. I walk back and scratch out the cite. I went back to the car, hand him the cite book and asked him to sign the citation. The rest went a little something like this...
Driver: But, I'm wearing it.
MC: (knowing he was itching to say that very thing). Listen, you and I both know you weren't wearing it when we passed each other and then you put it on. So how about you lose the incredulous look on your face and sign the ticket. If you don't like it, you can go to court, but I'm not buying the "I was wearing it" defense. And just so you know, I was going to just give you a warning if you told me the truth, but you decided to go the other way.
Driver: (as I'm walking away...and just loud enough for me to hear) Thanks, dick.
MC: (trying to maintain composure) What's that tough guy?
Driver: (shame facedly) Nothing.
MC: Yeah, ok. Ass.
Folks, what the hell is wrong with you? And I mean the broad "you" not you specifically. Unless of course you are the driver in the above scenario. In which case I have this to say to you. Fuck you, you pussy. If you have something to say, why don't you grab your tiny little balls, man up, and say your piece. Don't mutter something under your breath and then not repeat same to my face, you bitch.
Wow. That was harsh. In my defense, I get sick and f'n tired of people pitching a fit over some violation that is obviously their fault. In all honesty (no pun intended), I had every intention of giving this jackhole a warning had he simply been honest and admitted his mistake. I hate liars.
Now I'm well aware of what my job entails. On the other hand, I write so many damn tickets, I have no problem giving the occasional break for someone who is either honest or makes me laugh. If you can get me to chuckle, odds are I'll cut you a break.
For example, one particular stop many moons ago, I stopped a kid for speeding. I don't remember how fast he was going, but he was moving at a decent clip. I walked up to the car and asked him if he knew why I stopped him. His response? "I fucked up." Honesty and he made me laugh. Kid got a break.
So, please, for both of our benefits...can't you just tell the truth?
Watch out...we're multiplying...
Long before my glorious Motor days, I was a dispatcher. Believe me when I tell you they are the life's blood of any law enforcement agency. They're human as well and sometimes attitudes clash on the air, but at the end of the day, they are the ones saving our proverbial bacon (Yes, I said bacon. Yes, I realize the irony.)
When I interviewed for my original position with my department, they asked me the typical "Why do you want to be in law enforcement?" question. My response dealt with a detail I handled whilst dispatching. Without getting long and drawn out, it was a date rape/sexual battery caper. The short answer is I was the only one on the planet at that particular moment in time that could help that woman. They were in the middle of nowhere and there were no other people around. I don't answer the phone, maybe things don't go so well for her. At any rate, two things happened to me that day. I felt a huge amount of pride for directing units to her and subsequently the suspect minutes later. Secondly, the adrenaline, baby. Oh sweet Lord, the adrenaline.
At any rate, on a recent post, I received a request for an "honorable mention" regarding a new blog. I must say it is I who is honored to bring it to the light of day. Dispatchers have a thankless job. They get thanked less than I do. Which is why nearly without fail, I thank them at the end of every request. I mean the thanks. Every time. If I'm getting my ass handed to me, I have every faith Dispatch will direct help my way. I put just as much faith in them as I do my actual beat partners.
So, thank you Dispatch, and without further ado...please to enjoy...
pubsafety.blogspot.com
When I interviewed for my original position with my department, they asked me the typical "Why do you want to be in law enforcement?" question. My response dealt with a detail I handled whilst dispatching. Without getting long and drawn out, it was a date rape/sexual battery caper. The short answer is I was the only one on the planet at that particular moment in time that could help that woman. They were in the middle of nowhere and there were no other people around. I don't answer the phone, maybe things don't go so well for her. At any rate, two things happened to me that day. I felt a huge amount of pride for directing units to her and subsequently the suspect minutes later. Secondly, the adrenaline, baby. Oh sweet Lord, the adrenaline.
At any rate, on a recent post, I received a request for an "honorable mention" regarding a new blog. I must say it is I who is honored to bring it to the light of day. Dispatchers have a thankless job. They get thanked less than I do. Which is why nearly without fail, I thank them at the end of every request. I mean the thanks. Every time. If I'm getting my ass handed to me, I have every faith Dispatch will direct help my way. I put just as much faith in them as I do my actual beat partners.
So, thank you Dispatch, and without further ado...please to enjoy...
pubsafety.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 17, 2009
What do you think you are signing there, genius?
If I had a dollar for every time I've had the following experience...well, I could probably buy coffee for a week or two. That isn't really the point, but you get the picture.
Yesterday, I stopped a young female for speeding. Not terribly uncommon and neither was her eventual response. Our cast will be as follows: MC (Motorcop) and SYFA (Stupid Young Female Adult). Author's note: SYFA's understudies include DOG (Dimwitted Old Guy), PSRC (Possibly Slightly Retarded Citizen), and on occasion FBA (Full Blown Asshole).
The scene: A traffic stop....action...
MC: (after having done the usual "do you know why I stopped you" bit) I won't keep you but a minute.
SYFA: Ok.
MC: (goes back and stands by the Motor scribbling furiously so's he can get back on the street and get more cites. MC walks back up to the car and hands them a book with a white piece of paper on it and a yellow highlited portion. It looks suspiciously like a ticket) Ok, I just need your signature on the yellow highlited portion on the bottom.
SYFA: (Now holding the book with the aforementioned paper on it) Are you giving me a ticket?
***Here are the Author's suggestions for possible responses***
1. MC: Gosh, no, SYFA. That is a form made out to the Chief stating how much you appreciate my hard work and warning on this minor, minor traffic violation you commited. I took the liberty of filling it out for you so all you would have to do is sign at the bottom. Thanks ever so much.
2. MC: Goodness, no, SYFA. I'm conducting a raffle for cookies. Don't you want to enter? You like cookies, don't you?
3. MC: Gee, SYFA, I couldn't think of such a thing. This is merely a written reminder that you should pay just a little bit more attention to your speed.
4. MC: No, no, no. I'm signing you up for my new newsletter "Speed Kills Monthly". (I actually might use that one)
5. MC: Just what in the fuck do you think I was doing back there for the last three minutes? I ain't writing out my dreams and aspirations, sweetheart, and this isn't my grocery list, so why don't you pull your head out of your ass and sign the damn ticket.
**Scene**
Of course, my response was more along the lines of "Yes, Ma'am." But the rest have all made their turns of swirling around in my head from time to time.
Yesterday, I stopped a young female for speeding. Not terribly uncommon and neither was her eventual response. Our cast will be as follows: MC (Motorcop) and SYFA (Stupid Young Female Adult). Author's note: SYFA's understudies include DOG (Dimwitted Old Guy), PSRC (Possibly Slightly Retarded Citizen), and on occasion FBA (Full Blown Asshole).
The scene: A traffic stop....action...
MC: (after having done the usual "do you know why I stopped you" bit) I won't keep you but a minute.
SYFA: Ok.
MC: (goes back and stands by the Motor scribbling furiously so's he can get back on the street and get more cites. MC walks back up to the car and hands them a book with a white piece of paper on it and a yellow highlited portion. It looks suspiciously like a ticket) Ok, I just need your signature on the yellow highlited portion on the bottom.
SYFA: (Now holding the book with the aforementioned paper on it) Are you giving me a ticket?
***Here are the Author's suggestions for possible responses***
1. MC: Gosh, no, SYFA. That is a form made out to the Chief stating how much you appreciate my hard work and warning on this minor, minor traffic violation you commited. I took the liberty of filling it out for you so all you would have to do is sign at the bottom. Thanks ever so much.
2. MC: Goodness, no, SYFA. I'm conducting a raffle for cookies. Don't you want to enter? You like cookies, don't you?
3. MC: Gee, SYFA, I couldn't think of such a thing. This is merely a written reminder that you should pay just a little bit more attention to your speed.
4. MC: No, no, no. I'm signing you up for my new newsletter "Speed Kills Monthly". (I actually might use that one)
5. MC: Just what in the fuck do you think I was doing back there for the last three minutes? I ain't writing out my dreams and aspirations, sweetheart, and this isn't my grocery list, so why don't you pull your head out of your ass and sign the damn ticket.
**Scene**
Of course, my response was more along the lines of "Yes, Ma'am." But the rest have all made their turns of swirling around in my head from time to time.
Are you out of your damn mind?
I was conducting some follow up in a local neighboring city yesterday. As it happened, the Wife happened to be in the area as well, so we met for lunch. A much appreciated gesture as I have had a wicked long week.
So, here we are at a little hot dog place. I'm enjoying my cheese dog (catsup only, thank you). I am, as most officers are apt to do, sitting with my back to a wall keeping an eye on the door and my Motor.
I see this scroat looking teenager (17-18) step off the sidewalk near my bike. He looked at my Motor and I swear I saw him sneer and he spit. On my bike. Now, I'm not saying he horked up a big one and landed it on the seat, but he definitely sprayed the front fender.
I. saw. red. I came up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what I said, but the Wife saw me and said, "What's wrong?" Again, I'm not really sure what my response was, but I assure you I was out the front door with a quickness.
I yelled to this little asshole, "Hey!" A little caveat here....
There's 'yelling' and there's cop yelling. My family refers to me sometimes when I'm speaking to someone as having "that cop voice/tone". It's a, shall we say, commanding tone. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a large, intimidating physical specimen....but I got the fucking voice down pat. A lot of times it's not so much what you say, but how you say it. Tone and body language are the key. I digress...
Little Asshole (we'll call him Lil A if for no other reason than it's more literarily amusing) looked up and froze. Deer in the headlights time. I strode (not walked) up to him and said, "Did you just spit on my fucking bike?"
All Lil A managed was, "I missed." Really? You missed, Lil A? Know what that says to me? That either says you intended to hit it and you just suck or the thought had previously occured to you that you just might hit it and you thought you'd roll the 'ol dice on that one. Either way, you're a fuckwad and I'd just as soon punch you in your pimply little face as continue to embarras you in front of a restaurant and parking lot full of people.
What I said was, "Show some respect! Now piss off!" Had I to do it over again (at my lovely Wife's suggestion) I should have snatched his ass up, grabbed some napkins and gotten my bike a nice little rubdown.
This is the state of the world I live in folks. I was in a nice part of the city. My bike has my department logo on it, so Lil A should be able to formulate the fact that I don't work there. Lil A, however, was apparently so incensed at the mere presence of Law Enforcement, he decided in his muddled little brain to take swift action against an inanimate object. Throw your fist up in defiance, Lil A. You little bitch.
So, here we are at a little hot dog place. I'm enjoying my cheese dog (catsup only, thank you). I am, as most officers are apt to do, sitting with my back to a wall keeping an eye on the door and my Motor.
I see this scroat looking teenager (17-18) step off the sidewalk near my bike. He looked at my Motor and I swear I saw him sneer and he spit. On my bike. Now, I'm not saying he horked up a big one and landed it on the seat, but he definitely sprayed the front fender.
I. saw. red. I came up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what I said, but the Wife saw me and said, "What's wrong?" Again, I'm not really sure what my response was, but I assure you I was out the front door with a quickness.
I yelled to this little asshole, "Hey!" A little caveat here....
There's 'yelling' and there's cop yelling. My family refers to me sometimes when I'm speaking to someone as having "that cop voice/tone". It's a, shall we say, commanding tone. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a large, intimidating physical specimen....but I got the fucking voice down pat. A lot of times it's not so much what you say, but how you say it. Tone and body language are the key. I digress...
Little Asshole (we'll call him Lil A if for no other reason than it's more literarily amusing) looked up and froze. Deer in the headlights time. I strode (not walked) up to him and said, "Did you just spit on my fucking bike?"
All Lil A managed was, "I missed." Really? You missed, Lil A? Know what that says to me? That either says you intended to hit it and you just suck or the thought had previously occured to you that you just might hit it and you thought you'd roll the 'ol dice on that one. Either way, you're a fuckwad and I'd just as soon punch you in your pimply little face as continue to embarras you in front of a restaurant and parking lot full of people.
What I said was, "Show some respect! Now piss off!" Had I to do it over again (at my lovely Wife's suggestion) I should have snatched his ass up, grabbed some napkins and gotten my bike a nice little rubdown.
This is the state of the world I live in folks. I was in a nice part of the city. My bike has my department logo on it, so Lil A should be able to formulate the fact that I don't work there. Lil A, however, was apparently so incensed at the mere presence of Law Enforcement, he decided in his muddled little brain to take swift action against an inanimate object. Throw your fist up in defiance, Lil A. You little bitch.
"Come with me if you want to live..." or "I'll be back"
The title of this post are two of the more memorable quotes from the Terminator movie series.
Wow. Cool story, Motorcop. There's more. Don't be such a smartass.
This week brought my little Town a little bit of much needed good news. A "local boy makes good"-type scenario. At any rate, there were some media involved and we had to make sure they stayed off certain property. About five minutes before the Sgt. asked me to swing through the area in question, I had already cruised by just to see the circus. I entered the court, rolled through looking all cool like, because, let's be honest, it's all about how you look on the bike. Anyway, there was little or nothing going on, so I left.
Like I said, my Sgt. called me and said there were some media folks on the property and he'd like me to go out and ask them to kindly get off. No worries. I rode back up there and pulled in front of some random media truck. There were about six or so camera guys standing around. I shut off the bike and was just about to open my mouth to say hello when one of them looks at me and says, "Sarah Connor isn't here."
I almost fell off the bike, I was laughing so hard.
Wow. Cool story, Motorcop. There's more. Don't be such a smartass.
This week brought my little Town a little bit of much needed good news. A "local boy makes good"-type scenario. At any rate, there were some media involved and we had to make sure they stayed off certain property. About five minutes before the Sgt. asked me to swing through the area in question, I had already cruised by just to see the circus. I entered the court, rolled through looking all cool like, because, let's be honest, it's all about how you look on the bike. Anyway, there was little or nothing going on, so I left.
Like I said, my Sgt. called me and said there were some media folks on the property and he'd like me to go out and ask them to kindly get off. No worries. I rode back up there and pulled in front of some random media truck. There were about six or so camera guys standing around. I shut off the bike and was just about to open my mouth to say hello when one of them looks at me and says, "Sarah Connor isn't here."
I almost fell off the bike, I was laughing so hard.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
A friendly tip from me to you
Hi there. Here's Motorcop's friendly "Tip-o-the-Day". When you see a police officer, Motor or otherwise, obviously in the middle of contacting someone else, or say, I don't know, writing a ticket to a vehicle containing less than agreeable folks...do yourself and the officer a favor.
Leave him/her the fuck alone. 'Kay? Fantastic.
Oh, and a bonus tip, after you've obviously ignored the first tip, don't tell that officer how to drive/ride his/her car/motor. Okey doke? Again, fantastic. What's that? You're not a trained professional? Why didn't you say so? Well then, you can just fuck right off, then can't you? Perfect.
Have a lovely day.
Leave him/her the fuck alone. 'Kay? Fantastic.
Oh, and a bonus tip, after you've obviously ignored the first tip, don't tell that officer how to drive/ride his/her car/motor. Okey doke? Again, fantastic. What's that? You're not a trained professional? Why didn't you say so? Well then, you can just fuck right off, then can't you? Perfect.
Have a lovely day.
BART
Ok. I've had a few folks ask me my opinion on the BART shooting. I've thought about whether or not to post about it because it has nothing to do with my assignment as a Motor and isn't my department. Although it obviously strays from my original intent for this blog, it wouldn't be the first time I've done that so here's my opinion. It didn't take me long to come up with it, so don't be shocked. Ready?
Dude fucked up. End of story.
Or at least that should be the end of the story, but the community and the all-knowing media have a different opinion, so I shall be a bit more specific with mine...as well as my opinion of the aforementioned community and media.
The incident...
Let's get one thing straight first. I wasn't there. But then again, neither were you. I have a decade of training and experience in law enforcement. You, most likely, do not (with obvious exceptions for my brothers/sisters on the job). I am not interested in starting a dialogue about what you think about my opinion. It is my opinion. Do I seem defensive? Fucking-A right I am. Know why? Because when shit like this happens, the people I and those like me have sworn to defend sometimes turn on us. So, let me say again. I wasn't there. I didn't shoot anybody. However, having more than earned my credentials on this job, I can offer a much more accurate assumption as to the incident itself. We'll get to the fallout later.
Initially, I had assumed the Officer had his weapon out and made the mistake of not indexing his finger. For those of you unfamiliar with firearms that means keeping your finger off the trigger and extended along the barrel to prevent AD's (accidental discharge). Turns out, I was incorrect. It appears the Officer made the fatal mistake of pulling his duty weapon instead of his Taser. How can I say that, you ask? Go to youtube and watch the dozens of videos. Every cop's reaction on that platform was "Oh, shit!"
Let's stop and think about this for a minute. There's a train load of citizens (read: witnesses) stopped on the platform. There's six or so cops on the platform. There's three or four detainees on the platform. Do you honestly think for one second that Officer said to himself, "I'm gonna shoot this guy."? Come on. I can't tell you the number of reminders I get about the number of cell phone/video cameras out there.
This was a horrible, tragic mistake. Should the Officer be held to answer for it. Hell yes. Did he commit murder? Look up the penal code and you tell me. Section 187 thru 199 deal with murder and manslaughter.
No one cares about this Officer and what he's going through. He killed a man. That affects you. We are not perfect. We are human. We make mistakes. Does that mean we deserve death threats to our families? Our two month old children? Again, I am not excusing what happened. Accidents happen. There is a reason they are called accidents.
"He should have known better." Probably. Hard to argue that. A little perspective, though. Not everyone that is on this job can handle this job. You know that guy or girl that works with you, maybe gets paid more than you, that is a complete fuck moron? We've got them too. I'm not saying this Officer was that guy, but I don't know the man. I know he was a "two year veteran". An oxymoron if ever there was one. BART's training program 18 months long. That means that after you graduate the academy, you get 18 months of OJT (on the job training). That is to say, this Officer was on his own for six months after completing FTO (field training). I've always been told you need to be in patrol for a minimum of five years to really and truly be a well rounded, experienced officer. I whole-heartedly buy that.
Guess what, folks...police officers have the same rights everyone else does. Just like you, we have the fifth amendment right to not incriminate ourselves. That's why he quit, so he couldn't be compelled by his department to make a statement. Any defense attorney worth a shit (man this post if just full of oxymorons) will tell you it was the right move for him to resign.
You want a black/white bottom line for this? You might not like it, but here it is. If that kid hadn't have been fighting (with either the other detainees or the cops) and had followed lawful orders from the police, he'd be alive. But, oh no, he was a choir boy (as reported by the news) and a good father. In the last two weeks, I've only heard one news station report (and only once on that station) that the deceased was an ex-con. He apparently did some time for running from the police and was found with a firearm. Hmmm...choir boy. Sure.
So, my official opinion is that it was a tragic accident. I don't believe the Officer intended to shoot the deceased at all. By the same token, I'm glad he is no longer a cop. We can't afford to make mistakes like that. We've now had two weeks to quarterback what happened. Any officer will tell you we have a split second to make life and death decisions. It isn't easy. The pressure and responsibility is enormous.
I'll continue later with my opinion on the Aftermath...prepare for sailor-esque commentary. Won't be pretty...
Dude fucked up. End of story.
Or at least that should be the end of the story, but the community and the all-knowing media have a different opinion, so I shall be a bit more specific with mine...as well as my opinion of the aforementioned community and media.
The incident...
Let's get one thing straight first. I wasn't there. But then again, neither were you. I have a decade of training and experience in law enforcement. You, most likely, do not (with obvious exceptions for my brothers/sisters on the job). I am not interested in starting a dialogue about what you think about my opinion. It is my opinion. Do I seem defensive? Fucking-A right I am. Know why? Because when shit like this happens, the people I and those like me have sworn to defend sometimes turn on us. So, let me say again. I wasn't there. I didn't shoot anybody. However, having more than earned my credentials on this job, I can offer a much more accurate assumption as to the incident itself. We'll get to the fallout later.
Initially, I had assumed the Officer had his weapon out and made the mistake of not indexing his finger. For those of you unfamiliar with firearms that means keeping your finger off the trigger and extended along the barrel to prevent AD's (accidental discharge). Turns out, I was incorrect. It appears the Officer made the fatal mistake of pulling his duty weapon instead of his Taser. How can I say that, you ask? Go to youtube and watch the dozens of videos. Every cop's reaction on that platform was "Oh, shit!"
Let's stop and think about this for a minute. There's a train load of citizens (read: witnesses) stopped on the platform. There's six or so cops on the platform. There's three or four detainees on the platform. Do you honestly think for one second that Officer said to himself, "I'm gonna shoot this guy."? Come on. I can't tell you the number of reminders I get about the number of cell phone/video cameras out there.
This was a horrible, tragic mistake. Should the Officer be held to answer for it. Hell yes. Did he commit murder? Look up the penal code and you tell me. Section 187 thru 199 deal with murder and manslaughter.
No one cares about this Officer and what he's going through. He killed a man. That affects you. We are not perfect. We are human. We make mistakes. Does that mean we deserve death threats to our families? Our two month old children? Again, I am not excusing what happened. Accidents happen. There is a reason they are called accidents.
"He should have known better." Probably. Hard to argue that. A little perspective, though. Not everyone that is on this job can handle this job. You know that guy or girl that works with you, maybe gets paid more than you, that is a complete fuck moron? We've got them too. I'm not saying this Officer was that guy, but I don't know the man. I know he was a "two year veteran". An oxymoron if ever there was one. BART's training program 18 months long. That means that after you graduate the academy, you get 18 months of OJT (on the job training). That is to say, this Officer was on his own for six months after completing FTO (field training). I've always been told you need to be in patrol for a minimum of five years to really and truly be a well rounded, experienced officer. I whole-heartedly buy that.
Guess what, folks...police officers have the same rights everyone else does. Just like you, we have the fifth amendment right to not incriminate ourselves. That's why he quit, so he couldn't be compelled by his department to make a statement. Any defense attorney worth a shit (man this post if just full of oxymorons) will tell you it was the right move for him to resign.
You want a black/white bottom line for this? You might not like it, but here it is. If that kid hadn't have been fighting (with either the other detainees or the cops) and had followed lawful orders from the police, he'd be alive. But, oh no, he was a choir boy (as reported by the news) and a good father. In the last two weeks, I've only heard one news station report (and only once on that station) that the deceased was an ex-con. He apparently did some time for running from the police and was found with a firearm. Hmmm...choir boy. Sure.
So, my official opinion is that it was a tragic accident. I don't believe the Officer intended to shoot the deceased at all. By the same token, I'm glad he is no longer a cop. We can't afford to make mistakes like that. We've now had two weeks to quarterback what happened. Any officer will tell you we have a split second to make life and death decisions. It isn't easy. The pressure and responsibility is enormous.
I'll continue later with my opinion on the Aftermath...prepare for sailor-esque commentary. Won't be pretty...
Repeat customers...
Having recently read a post by a brother Motor about stopping the same driver twice in one day, I am reminded of an entertaining stop of mine...
Businesses thrive on repeat customers. They'd go under without them. How many Bux (Starbucks for you uninitiated out there) addicts are there out there....cuz there's a ton of us here at the PD. Well, unlike most businesses, I don't really need the repeat customer, because there's just so darn many new ones out there to meet and greet. However, on occasion, by mere happenstance, if you will, I get the opportunity to say "Hello" to an old friend.
Last summer I was sitting at a usual spot running Lidar (think Radar on steroids). I got a car speeding. I can't remember the exact speed, but it was at least 58 in a 45 (13 over is about where I draw the line, depending on the conditions of the roadway, traffic, etc). At any rate, I hit the lites and conducted an enforcement stop. As I'm putting the stop out over the air, it occurs to me the license plate looks very familiar, but I can't place it. It was a personalized plate. They tend to stand out. But, I stop between 1500 and 2000 cars a year, so you never know.
Whilst I am mulling over where I know the plate from, I walked up to the car and contacted the driver and gave her the usual "Do you know why I stopped you?" spiel. I don't remember what she told me and it isn't the important part of the story. The important part is she was having a hard time finding her registration in the glove box (and by the way, does anyone actually keep gloves in there? I've seen literally thousands of boxes for gloves and nary a glove to be found).
As I gandered into her glove box (dammit if that doesn't sound dirty), I see a yellow copy of a citation. I told her, "Why don't you just hand me that yellow paper right there." She did. **Light goes off over my head and I swear I heard a 'ding' noise** It was a copy of a ticket. That I gave her. Two months prior. For the same violation. In the same car. On the same street. Absolutely fucking priceless. I said, "I'll just use this. Be right back."
Sometimes I just have to smirk and chuckle.
Businesses thrive on repeat customers. They'd go under without them. How many Bux (Starbucks for you uninitiated out there) addicts are there out there....cuz there's a ton of us here at the PD. Well, unlike most businesses, I don't really need the repeat customer, because there's just so darn many new ones out there to meet and greet. However, on occasion, by mere happenstance, if you will, I get the opportunity to say "Hello" to an old friend.
Last summer I was sitting at a usual spot running Lidar (think Radar on steroids). I got a car speeding. I can't remember the exact speed, but it was at least 58 in a 45 (13 over is about where I draw the line, depending on the conditions of the roadway, traffic, etc). At any rate, I hit the lites and conducted an enforcement stop. As I'm putting the stop out over the air, it occurs to me the license plate looks very familiar, but I can't place it. It was a personalized plate. They tend to stand out. But, I stop between 1500 and 2000 cars a year, so you never know.
Whilst I am mulling over where I know the plate from, I walked up to the car and contacted the driver and gave her the usual "Do you know why I stopped you?" spiel. I don't remember what she told me and it isn't the important part of the story. The important part is she was having a hard time finding her registration in the glove box (and by the way, does anyone actually keep gloves in there? I've seen literally thousands of boxes for gloves and nary a glove to be found).
As I gandered into her glove box (dammit if that doesn't sound dirty), I see a yellow copy of a citation. I told her, "Why don't you just hand me that yellow paper right there." She did. **Light goes off over my head and I swear I heard a 'ding' noise** It was a copy of a ticket. That I gave her. Two months prior. For the same violation. In the same car. On the same street. Absolutely fucking priceless. I said, "I'll just use this. Be right back."
Sometimes I just have to smirk and chuckle.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
...for the blog stalker...
This is a quick post to a select group. If you've no idea what the hell I'm talking about, you aren't in that group. Nothing personal. :-)
Fellas, (not 'fellas' fellas, but you know, fellas i.e. dudes, bros (broes?)), couldn't be happier having peeked behind the Great and Powerful OZ's curtain (I'm reading Wicked, leave me alone).
'Twas a stroke of genius. Thanks very much. Here's to more of the same.
**Does anyone else hear that annoying 'small world' theme song? huh.**
Fellas, (not 'fellas' fellas, but you know, fellas i.e. dudes, bros (broes?)), couldn't be happier having peeked behind the Great and Powerful OZ's curtain (I'm reading Wicked, leave me alone).
'Twas a stroke of genius. Thanks very much. Here's to more of the same.
**Does anyone else hear that annoying 'small world' theme song? huh.**
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Excuse the mess...
So, I've been digitally recording virtually every stop I do for the last 2 1/2 years. Some are more entertaining than others. Most are fairly boring. Occassionally, however, some of them defy the written word.
I am in the process of trying to figure out how to upload a choice few so you can all hear what my stops sound like. As per my blog policy, there will be no personal information of the driver(s) involved and I may have to edit out (somehow) my call sign to retain anonymity, but I am doing my best to make it happen.
There is a new 'gadget' to the top right of the page. For now, I'm not sure what the hell it does, so just ignore it for now. I'll update you all when it's good to go.
Stand by to stand by...
I am in the process of trying to figure out how to upload a choice few so you can all hear what my stops sound like. As per my blog policy, there will be no personal information of the driver(s) involved and I may have to edit out (somehow) my call sign to retain anonymity, but I am doing my best to make it happen.
There is a new 'gadget' to the top right of the page. For now, I'm not sure what the hell it does, so just ignore it for now. I'll update you all when it's good to go.
Stand by to stand by...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
I gave someone a war....wwwaarrr...wrrr. Dammit.
I stopped a car today for driving 48 mph in a 35 mph zone. Everything was status quo. The plate returned to an address in Town to someone I've never heard of or met. I contacted the driver. The contact went like this...
Me: Howdy (Yeah, I know, shut up).
Driver: How you doing, Officer?
You know why I stopped you?
Driver: Yes, sir.
Me: Why's that?
Driver: I was speeding.
Me: Yeah. Do you know how fast you were going?
Driver: No, sir.
Me: Do you know what the speed limit is.
Driver: 30?
Me: 35. You were doing 48.
Driver: 48?
Me: Yeah, a little too fast. Not the end of the world though, do you have your registration there? (He already handed me his license)
Driver: Yes, sir.
Me: Any tickets in the last year and a half?
Driver: No, sir.
Me: Ever had a ticket at all?
Driver: Uh, yes, sir.
Me: Did you go to traffic school for it?
Driver: Yes, sir.
Me: Okay, be right back with you.
Driver: Yes, sir.
I went back to the bike and ran his driving history. No moving violations on his record. I went back to the car.
Me: I'm going to do something I very, very seldomly do and that's give you a warning (Youch...it's kinda like Fonzi saying he's wrong). Ask me why.
Driver: Why, Officer?
Me: You are the most polite young man I have ever seen before in my life. I've been working in this Town for almost five years and on a bike for two and a half. I've never seen anyone more polite than you.
Here's the kicker...
Me: What does your Dad do?
Driver: He's a police officer.
Me: And there it is.
Driver: (Laughs)
Me: Tell you what, I won't tell your Dad if you won't, but if you happen to mention it to him, tell him he did a bang up job.
Driver: Thanks a lot, Officer.
Me: Take care and drive safe.
Driver: You, too, Officer.
I was impressed with this kid because he was literally one of the most polite people I've dealt with. I wasn't surprised about his Dad, though. I figured either a cop or a firefighter. Feels good to be right. And before those of you in the know ask...there was no confidentiality on his plate.
Me: Howdy (Yeah, I know, shut up).
Driver: How you doing, Officer?
You know why I stopped you?
Driver: Yes, sir.
Me: Why's that?
Driver: I was speeding.
Me: Yeah. Do you know how fast you were going?
Driver: No, sir.
Me: Do you know what the speed limit is.
Driver: 30?
Me: 35. You were doing 48.
Driver: 48?
Me: Yeah, a little too fast. Not the end of the world though, do you have your registration there? (He already handed me his license)
Driver: Yes, sir.
Me: Any tickets in the last year and a half?
Driver: No, sir.
Me: Ever had a ticket at all?
Driver: Uh, yes, sir.
Me: Did you go to traffic school for it?
Driver: Yes, sir.
Me: Okay, be right back with you.
Driver: Yes, sir.
I went back to the bike and ran his driving history. No moving violations on his record. I went back to the car.
Me: I'm going to do something I very, very seldomly do and that's give you a warning (Youch...it's kinda like Fonzi saying he's wrong). Ask me why.
Driver: Why, Officer?
Me: You are the most polite young man I have ever seen before in my life. I've been working in this Town for almost five years and on a bike for two and a half. I've never seen anyone more polite than you.
Here's the kicker...
Me: What does your Dad do?
Driver: He's a police officer.
Me: And there it is.
Driver: (Laughs)
Me: Tell you what, I won't tell your Dad if you won't, but if you happen to mention it to him, tell him he did a bang up job.
Driver: Thanks a lot, Officer.
Me: Take care and drive safe.
Driver: You, too, Officer.
I was impressed with this kid because he was literally one of the most polite people I've dealt with. I wasn't surprised about his Dad, though. I figured either a cop or a firefighter. Feels good to be right. And before those of you in the know ask...there was no confidentiality on his plate.
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