Geriatric types

A few posts ago, I ranted about cyclists. Today? The old.

Listen, Methuselah. I empathize with your need to remain independent. You survived a couple world wars. You made it through Black Monday. You carried on through the Dust Bowl. I applaud your tenacity and your gumption. You’ve got moxie. I get it. No one is questioning your survival instinct.

Here’s the thing though…if you’re old enough to remember when the horse and buggy was the major mode of transportation, I’m not so sure you need to be driving your ’78 Cadi on my streets. Seriously.

Now I don’t know about you and this may sound discriminatory and reactionary, but I think we (and I mean ‘we’ as a society) need to pick an age at which the state requires drivers to take a practical driving exam. That means taking your sheepskin seat belt protector and beaded seat rest down to the ‘ol DMV and having the jaded, half a whack job sit in your passenger seat and test your ability to, oh I don’t know, not crash into shit.

Is that ageism (ageist?)? Check it out…don’t care. You want to be fair? No problem. I’m all for making it mandatory every four years. For everyone. You think DMV lines suck now? Just wait. My main bitch about the process? Here’s a personal example…

My Great Grandfather was about 92 years old when he passed. He still had a valid CDL. He had Alzheimer’s. DMV, in their vast wisdom, just kept sending the man a renewed license. HE WAS 92!!!! The man was born around the turn of the blessed century for crying out loud! He had no more business driving a car than I do operating one of those skyscraper cranes (random).

Another example…my Stepdad’s mom (lovely woman, by the by) stopped driving around 90 after a friend got into an accident and got sued. Smart move, right? Absolutely. The amusing part is up until then wherever she went, she had to get there by making right turns. She wasn’t comfortable making a left. !?!? She’d basically have to go four blocks to get one block from her house.

As a Motor, I have the power to issue a Retest Form. It can either be a priority exam or a regular exam. I’m pretty sure I issue more of them than most of the other Officers I work with. Call it a pet peeve. I’ve gotten a couple of folks’ licenses revoked. Not because I’m an a-hole, but because I’m looking out for the general public’s safety.

No one wants to be the heavy and take someone’s freedom from them. But at what cost? How long do we let older drivers drive for? It’s a physiological fact that as we age our perception/reaction time increases and our motor skills decline. It’s a recipe for disaster.

The bottom line is this. If I stop you and your hands are shaking so bad you can barely pull your CDL out of your wallet (and not from nerves), you’re gonna get a retest form. If you’re in your advanced years and I pull you over for a fairly serious traffic violation, you’re gonna get a retest form. If you are the primary responsible party in a traffic collision, you’re gonna get a retest form.

It just occurred to me I have nothing to fear from the old regarding this post. They fear technology and more than likely couldn’t find the Internet if it jumped on their face and wiggled. Besides, Wheel of Fortune is on. You know they’re watching it and not cruising the blogosphere.

Now, you bastards get off my lawn!!!!

Always Entertaining Traffic Court

I’m lucky enough to be in the jurisdiction that has a very fair Traffic Commissioner. He’s also got quite the rapier wit. I tend to show up early to traffic court just for sheer entertainment value. There’ve been a number of stories over the years and I’m sure I’ll add to them. This post, however, is more about seeing the disappointment on the face of a defendant that won the case. How is that possible, you ask? Read onward, friend…

A few weeks ago, I was sitting patiently in the court room waiting for my defendant’s name to get called. I looked around the court room and saw a young lady holding a large piece of white poster board. I could just tell she’d put all kinds of time into her defense. She got called forward. She got up, a look of grim determination on her face. She was a teenager and it seemed as if her folks had encouraged her to experience the justice system first hand.

She approached the defendant’s lectern and looked over to where all the Officers had stood in earlier cases. No one was there. Confusion tap danced across her naive face. The Judge asked, “Are you Suzy X. Teenager?” She squeaked out, “Yes, sir.” The Judge said, “The officer isn’t here, this is dismissed.” She won, but the confusion still semi-registered on her face.

My case was called next and I blew through my testimony and won (C’mon…you doubt me?) I happened to walk out of the court house just in front of the teenager. She was on the phone with her Mom and was jabbering on about how she won because the Cop didn’t show. She didn’t seem too upset about all the work she put in, but based on the one-sided conversation, Mom had a bit of a hard time with it. The kid was elated she wasn’t found guilty. She said, “I don’t care about the evidence…I won! That’s all that matters.”

In other cases, though, I’ve seen defendants nearly talk themselves into a guilty verdict. If we, the Po-Po, don’t show up for court, the State hasn’t proven its case against the defendant, so it is automatically dismissed. Sometimes, we misplace our copies of tickets. When you write 1500 in a year, misplacing a copy or two is not unheard of. Consequently, the Officer will say something to the effect of, “You’re Honor, I was unable to locate my copy of the citation and I have no independent recollection of this violation. I’d like to dismiss the case in the interest of justice.”

The Judge will then ask the defendant, “Do you have any objection?” I’ve seen defendants clutching their pile of sketches, copies of the Vehicle Code, printouts from Google Maps look up at the Judge and say, “I want to have my say.”

Seriously?!? The Judge will strongly encourage them to shut up (not his words) and explain that the State has not met its burden of proof and they may very well talk themselves into a guilty verdict.

It happened to me once. My defendant was adamant that she didn’t commit the violation (nice lady, by the by) and wanted her day in court. The Judge told her it was up to her, but if he were her, he’d take the dismissal. She did. However, she caught me in the hall and we talked about the case. I had forgotten all about it and honestly had no independent recollection. As soon as she started talking to me, it all came flooding back. I’d have won. Good thing she was smart enough to keep her pie-hole shut, huh?

It never ceases to amaze me that people just can’t keep their opinions to themselves. I love seeing someone spends what had to be hours on that shadow box re-enactment of the alleged violation (now with cycling traffic signals!!) only to see them pissed off when they win without having to introduce their new pride and joy. HI-larious.

Saturday’s Question

Yes, I know it’s Monday. Shut up…

This week’s question comes from Annoying Mouse (self-proclaimed):

I think it would be interesting for your readers to know what training an officer has to be a motor cop i.e. have a motorcycle license and you get picked?

Excellent question, Mouse. I, as per usual, can only attest to my personal journey and operate under the assumption that different departments have different policies and procedures. With that in mind, however, I can answer your question.

In my case, I showed a, shall we say, predisposition to the issuing of citations. When I was in patrol, I, on average, would issue three times the number of moving violations as our traffic car and as much, if not more, than other patrol officers. That’s not to say that the other members of my department were lazy. They just didn’t dig it as much as I did/do.

I have been on a bike since ’84. I was a passenger for the first ten years on my Dad’s ’84 Honda Goldwing. We took that bike camping pretty much all over the western half of the U.S. From two week trips to the Grand Canyon to 10 days up to Canada. In ’95, I traded in my 81 Honda Civic (can you say chick magnet!?) for a ’92 Honda Nighthawk 750. In ’03, I bought an ’02 Honda VTX 1800 Retro (now you can say chick magnet). So, yeah, I had a motorcycle license.

My particular department doesn’t require you to have an M1 endorsement on your license to put in for the position (but it doesn’t hurt). You do, however, need one to attend Motor School.

Motor School is a two week, 80-hr course designed to improve a rider’s skill. Mostly, it’s very slow speed cone pattern work. I fucking hated it. Most guys I’ve talked to go on and on about how great their motor school was. Not me. I damn near quit.

It wasn’t that it was over the top hard. It wasn’t that I wasn’t used to the bike they provided (a stripped down Kawasaki). I just couldn’t get out of my own head. I’d been riding forever, but I couldn’t bring myself to complete all the patterns without either hitting too many cones or dumping the bike.

Oh…and if anyone tells you they got through Motor School without dumping their bike, they are either a) the best rider on the face of the Earth or b) a huge fucking liar. We ALL dump it at some point…and some repeatedly….it’s part of training and makes you better.

Once again, I relied on the Wife to get me through a tough time. I called her on a lunch break and said I was seriously considering throwing in the towel. She talked me down, encouraged me to continue and said to just do my best. I went back to the school before the lunch break was over and took one of the bikes on the course. (I don’t think they really wanted us to do that with no instructors around for liability reasons, but what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt ‘em).

First time out I finished every pattern without hitting a solitary cone and never put the bike on its side. As soon as I did that, I knew I could do it regardless of who was watching. That was my whole hang up…being observed. Well shit, I get observed everyday, right? Why should this be any different? For the rest of the week, I was right as rain and sailed through the remainder of the school.

The 80 hr school is simply for the operation of the motorcycle. Then comes the intensive Accident Investigation courses. I won’t get into the specifics of each class, but I’ll give you the list and hours involved.

Basic – 40
Intermediate – 40
Advanced – 80
CRUSH – 40
TAR (Traffic Accident Reconstruction) – 80
TAR II – 40
Leica Training (Forensic Mapping) – 40
Vista FX (CAD program to assist Forensic Mapping) – 40

There are other classes (Veh vs. Ped, Veh vs. Motorcycle) that I have yet to take, but the above list gives you an idea of the training we go through to investigate collisions. By my count (and considering the amount of math in these classes, my count should be accurate!), that is 320 hours of accident specific investigation and 80 hrs of additional training to assist in the mapping/reconstruction of the collision. Not everyone enjoys the math as much as I, but more often that not, if you’re a Motor, you’re required to complete the lion’s share of this training.

Being a Motor in my department also means you’re a member of the team that investigates major injury/fatal collisions. That’s why we need all the above training.

So my job is more than just writing tickets…although it is the part that is both the most fun and the more common.

Well, Mouse, that should about sum it up. If you’re looking for a shorter answer…yes, you need an M1 and then, yes, you will get picked.

Thanks for the question and I look forward to getting more from the rest of you. I’ve got a few still stored up from the past week or two, but don’t be shy. If I keep getting more questions, I’ll post more than once a week.

Addendum to the "Ashing" post

I just stopped a 28 year old woman for flicking the ash from her cigarette from her vehicle. She said, “I didn’t know it was illegal.” Okay, fair enough. Unfortunately, ignorance is no excuse for violating the law. I explained the inherent danger in throwing a lit, burning substance from a car and how it could light something on fire.

She again repeated, “I just didn’t know. I figured it was legal because of the biodegradable aspect.”

?!?

Uh…the biodegradable aspect? You mean the carcinogen within the ash is biodegradable? Or the house you could burn to the fucking ground?

Science is fun.

My new toy

Hey all….

I might be a bit behind for the next few days. The new bike is in and I’ll be breaking it in for the next couple of weeks. I’ll be updating still, but for the next few days I’ll most likely be out of commission. Today is an 18 hr day and then its a four day weekend camping with the Fam & Friends.

Worry not…I’ll be posting some pics of the ridiculous new bike next week. I have a plan in the, well, planning stages regarding updating the look of the blog to include the new bike, but I need to make some inquiries as to how to make that happen.

Take care and be safe and I’ll see you all in a few days. I will leave you with the following one word description of the new bike appropriately stretched into many syllables:

SSSIIIIIIIIICCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!!

This one is directed at you, Lance Armstrong

**This post is not directed to Lance Armstrong. I find him to be a stellar athlete and a wonderful human. Live Strong.***

Ok. I’m bound to piss some of you off with this one, but keep an open mind and hear me out…at least the overall point…

Listen, weekend cyclist guy/gal. I get the fact that you love your swell Trek or Specialized. I don’t necessarily understand the need to garb yourself in heinous colors that are too tight for most people to wear, but hey, different strokes. Here’s the thing, though…CVC 21200(a) states in part:

Every person riding a bicycle upon a highway has all the rights and is subject to all the provisions applicable to the driver of a vehicle.

What does that mean for you, Tour de France wannabe? That means when you see the fucking big red sign with the word “STOP” on it? Yeah, you have to stop. When you see that light box on the arm of that big ‘ol metal pole thingy and the top red colored light is blazing away? Yeah, you have to stop.

Look, I understand that cars don’t pay as much attention to you. I’m on a Motor, remember? We both have two wheels. That makes us cousins. Sorta. More like cousins twice removed. We could probably legally marry and have kids that wouldn’t have three arms and no nipples. I know it’s dangerous; however, let me throw this little factoid at you. In the three years I have been in the Traffic Unit, we’ve investigated a number of collisions involving bicycles. A rough estimate? More than 80% of the fault lies with the cyclist (and that’s a conservative estimate). Of those where the car is more at fault, the cyclist typically is an associated factor in the collision.

My point to all of this? If you wanna save yourself some drama (of the violation kind) or some trauma (of the visit to the ER kind), do both of us a favor and don’t ride like an A-hole, okay? This means you, pack of 50 neon-clad dorks taking up an entire lane of traffic. Guess what? You don’t have the right to do that. Much as you like to think you do, you do not. Hey, if all 50 of you can stack up laterally in a bike lane, knock yourselves out; however, if you can’t, you’re required to ride single file and as close to the right roadway edge as you can.

Believe it or not, the rules of the road are set up to protect you. If not from idiot motorists, then from yourselves. I’m all for engaging in some healthy exercise (regardless of the silly looking padded ass pants, Melinda) (There is no Melinda. I was channeling Dr. Cox from Scrubs.) (I apologize to any and all Melindas reading this. I in no way meant to offend you.))), but what say you do it safely, huh?

Now get on out there and ride your 100 miles. I’ll beat you there. ‘Cause I’m on a motorcycle. And I look wwwwaaaayyyy cooler than you. Melinda (refer to above commentary).

XBox 360 Players?

It occurred to me a few minutes ago that perhaps I can reach out and interact with some of you in a different way.

I am on XBox Live, much to the Wife’s chagrin. You can find me under the tag, brace yourself….Motorcop. Send me a friend request and lets blow some shit up!