Cops: theyre cool as hell
- Thread starter cervin
- Start date
JustinLonghorn
No Purple Hearts, No Blue Ribbons
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1ne5f_v4Tg
And how about this one: I got pulled over earlier today for an obscured license plate on the 550. I was polite and the officer was very cool. After some chit chat, he let me off with a warning that basically consisted of "well there's nothing much you can do about it on that bike, huh. I'm cool with it, just know you might get stopped from time to time, but it should be fine."
They certainly are all dicks, huh. :
They certainly are all dicks, huh. :
jonwright
surfing and motorcycles.... yup
today i took my bike around the block to test it out. 4 right turns, 4 stop signs. no plate, no turn signals no working headlight... i get to the second of my 4 stop signs only to pull up at the same time as a cop. he looks at me, and as he makes his turn with his eyes locked on me the whole time. i start freaking out. i make my turn and get to the third stop sign, turn right and pull over. the cop turns around and drives by me again, looking at me the whole way as he passes me... he never stoped. i almost added a brown racing stripe to my seat.. but i made it home lol i guess he just liked looking at my bie so much he didnt notice it was not even close to legal lol
Hoosier Daddy
Earache my eye...
I LIKE IT!Catbird said:
damarble
Been Around the Block
When I was young I used to believe all cops were assholes. Then I grew up and looking back I realized I deserved it all and more. There ARE some assholes for sure, and Spokane is known to have a few (mostly they like to beat and shoot defenseless people, that's a story for another day), but there's more cool ones than dicks just like any other profession. Keep in mind, at any time their next stop could be the last, that's a lot of stress to carry every day.
My best experience is a toss up. One I was going 10+ over the limit and had no current proof of insurance. Got me in a speed trap, I figured it was in the books already. Let me off with warning for some reason.
The other I didn't get off clean, but I got off much easier than I should have. 80 in a 45 construction zone. I honestly didn't know it was a construction zone, and my speed got away from me, I was just wringing it on the on-ramp to merge. Bike cop pulls me over. Should have been a $900 ticket and he reduced it to $300.
Outside of traffic violations I haven't had any incidents at least. I go slower now and live a less hassled life.
My best experience is a toss up. One I was going 10+ over the limit and had no current proof of insurance. Got me in a speed trap, I figured it was in the books already. Let me off with warning for some reason.
The other I didn't get off clean, but I got off much easier than I should have. 80 in a 45 construction zone. I honestly didn't know it was a construction zone, and my speed got away from me, I was just wringing it on the on-ramp to merge. Bike cop pulls me over. Should have been a $900 ticket and he reduced it to $300.
Outside of traffic violations I haven't had any incidents at least. I go slower now and live a less hassled life.
Call Of Doodie
Been Around the Block
Just found this thread and couldn't help but add my favourite old cop story.
Back in the late '70s, I had my first cafe bike, a '73 Yamaha TX500. My two roommates both rode bikes, one a fully refurbished/customised Kawi H1, and the other a Kawi Z1 900. Being from Huntington Beach, we'd spend most weekend nights that the girlfriends weren't available cruising up and down Pacific Coast Hwy., or riding down to the Balboa (Newport Beach) Fun Zone.
One night on the way back at around 12 - 12:30 a.m., we met another group of bikes, and one of them, a new-ish cafe-d KZ400 took an interest in jerking around with me in traffic. My TX was no Z1, but it was fun to ride, and I'd heard the KZ was pretty fast for a 400 (this kind of thing was a big deal back then!), but I thought since I had an extra 100cc's, it might be interesting to see how she ran. By the time we got to Beach Blvd., he had gotten pretty obnoxious, so even though that wasn't our turn-off, when he took that long, sweeping transition on to Beach, I nailed it and followed him.
I got a bit of a jump on him, so I slipped past, but he cracked it wide open, and tucked down as soon as he saw me coming up. We both kept it WOT along that long, open, slightly uphill straight (that at that time was mostly marshland on either side) with no stoplights. He never caught back up, and had actually fallen quite a bit behind by the time we were coming up on the first traffic light and shut down.
I was ecstatic at my "kill", especially having put the obnoxious A-hole in his place. The fun was short-lived, however when I saw a black-and-white pull out of a side street with lights flashing. I quickly pulled over, knowing full well the HB police - at least at that time - had a reputation as being a pretty tough bunch.
Two officers got out and approached from either side, and the driver immediately got right in my face.
"DO YOU KNOW THAT I JUST CLOCKED YOU ON RADAR AT 105 MILES PER HOUR ON BEACH BLVD., A PUBLIC THOROUGHFARE???"
I was scared shitless, but at the same time, for some reason I remember thinking, '105? Really? Cool!'
The two of them then went up and down the bike, picking apart all the violations; I had stripped it of turn signals and rear view mirrors, he told me my clubman bars were non-stock and "illegal", and the way I'd mounted the brake light onto the home-made bobbed rear fender was "illegal", too. The piece-de-resistance of it all was when he asked for license and registration, and when I flipped the seat up to get the registration, I found that it must have come loose from the spindly little bracket that was supposed to hold it, and had blown off the bike!
They told me to stay put, while they walked back to their car. They took FOREVER. I was sweating. These guys were not only huge (I had to look up at both of them, and I'm 6' tall), they were pissed, I had all those violations on the bike, AND in those days, getting caught that far over the speed limit was grounds for arrest and impounding of the vehicle, so I figured they'd called a tow truck and were just waiting for him to cart the bike - and me - away.
The driver finally came back up to me after what seemed like 45 minutes (I'm sure it was about 4!). He looked down at me sitting on the bike, leaned in really close, poked me in the chest with his finger, and said in this really low voice, "I don't ever want to cross paths with you again. If we do, you won't enjoy it, I guarantee you. Now slow down, and get your ass home. Now."
I'm sure I must have looked like a complete moron, sitting there with my mouth wide open, trying to comprehend what he'd just said, thinking, 'I get to leave? Scot-free? HUH?'
Needless to say, I got my gear back on in a hurry, started the old girl, and drove like a 70 year old church lady all the way home! To this day, I still don't know why they let me go, but I'll certainly never forget it!
As others have said, for the most part, I've had pretty good experiences with police and highway patrol over the years. Of course, many members of my family are in law enforcement, so I'm guessing my attitude might be different from others. And believe me, the tickets I've gotten - and there have been many - were well-deserved. Sure, there have been some over-the-top A-holes that I've dealt with, too, but the same applies to any group of individuals.
Back in the late '70s, I had my first cafe bike, a '73 Yamaha TX500. My two roommates both rode bikes, one a fully refurbished/customised Kawi H1, and the other a Kawi Z1 900. Being from Huntington Beach, we'd spend most weekend nights that the girlfriends weren't available cruising up and down Pacific Coast Hwy., or riding down to the Balboa (Newport Beach) Fun Zone.
One night on the way back at around 12 - 12:30 a.m., we met another group of bikes, and one of them, a new-ish cafe-d KZ400 took an interest in jerking around with me in traffic. My TX was no Z1, but it was fun to ride, and I'd heard the KZ was pretty fast for a 400 (this kind of thing was a big deal back then!), but I thought since I had an extra 100cc's, it might be interesting to see how she ran. By the time we got to Beach Blvd., he had gotten pretty obnoxious, so even though that wasn't our turn-off, when he took that long, sweeping transition on to Beach, I nailed it and followed him.
I got a bit of a jump on him, so I slipped past, but he cracked it wide open, and tucked down as soon as he saw me coming up. We both kept it WOT along that long, open, slightly uphill straight (that at that time was mostly marshland on either side) with no stoplights. He never caught back up, and had actually fallen quite a bit behind by the time we were coming up on the first traffic light and shut down.
I was ecstatic at my "kill", especially having put the obnoxious A-hole in his place. The fun was short-lived, however when I saw a black-and-white pull out of a side street with lights flashing. I quickly pulled over, knowing full well the HB police - at least at that time - had a reputation as being a pretty tough bunch.
Two officers got out and approached from either side, and the driver immediately got right in my face.
"DO YOU KNOW THAT I JUST CLOCKED YOU ON RADAR AT 105 MILES PER HOUR ON BEACH BLVD., A PUBLIC THOROUGHFARE???"
I was scared shitless, but at the same time, for some reason I remember thinking, '105? Really? Cool!'
The two of them then went up and down the bike, picking apart all the violations; I had stripped it of turn signals and rear view mirrors, he told me my clubman bars were non-stock and "illegal", and the way I'd mounted the brake light onto the home-made bobbed rear fender was "illegal", too. The piece-de-resistance of it all was when he asked for license and registration, and when I flipped the seat up to get the registration, I found that it must have come loose from the spindly little bracket that was supposed to hold it, and had blown off the bike!
They told me to stay put, while they walked back to their car. They took FOREVER. I was sweating. These guys were not only huge (I had to look up at both of them, and I'm 6' tall), they were pissed, I had all those violations on the bike, AND in those days, getting caught that far over the speed limit was grounds for arrest and impounding of the vehicle, so I figured they'd called a tow truck and were just waiting for him to cart the bike - and me - away.
The driver finally came back up to me after what seemed like 45 minutes (I'm sure it was about 4!). He looked down at me sitting on the bike, leaned in really close, poked me in the chest with his finger, and said in this really low voice, "I don't ever want to cross paths with you again. If we do, you won't enjoy it, I guarantee you. Now slow down, and get your ass home. Now."
I'm sure I must have looked like a complete moron, sitting there with my mouth wide open, trying to comprehend what he'd just said, thinking, 'I get to leave? Scot-free? HUH?'
Needless to say, I got my gear back on in a hurry, started the old girl, and drove like a 70 year old church lady all the way home! To this day, I still don't know why they let me go, but I'll certainly never forget it!
As others have said, for the most part, I've had pretty good experiences with police and highway patrol over the years. Of course, many members of my family are in law enforcement, so I'm guessing my attitude might be different from others. And believe me, the tickets I've gotten - and there have been many - were well-deserved. Sure, there have been some over-the-top A-holes that I've dealt with, too, but the same applies to any group of individuals.
