True story…

Posted: July 12, 2015 in Outside on a bike

Most folks know that I conclude truthful tales by stating the title of this particular chestnut. Whoppers receive  no such qualification…

So, about our bike ride today… allow me to preface thusly: anybody who knows the long, sordid history of my lifelong friendship with Gopher will not find the following in any way strange nor out of the ordinary…

…Today, just after crossing the bridge over the Turnpike in Taylor,  we made the right at that Via Appia place in order to head off the main drag to ride in the relative safety of the backstreets and alleys. As we did so, there happened to be a police SUV driving in the opposite direction on Main. Now, my former atics have ingrained a VERY specific skillset upon my psyche that has become second nature… predicting an eminent busts. And with no stimuli other than this particular cop looking at me a second longer than I figured he needed to, my spider senses went apeshit.

Goph, also seeing this, jokingly did the fingers to eyes, Robert De Niro “I’m watchin’ youse” thing to bust my nuts.

Not three seconds after the ‘gonna get popped’ feeling took hold, the familiar “WOOP WOOP” of a police siren sounded behind us. Have I mentioned we were riding bicycles?? It was at this point that Goph gave me this 1/4 pissed off, 3/4 amused grin that almost made me laugh out loud.

We hopped off the bikes and the cop indicated he’d just be a second as he called in, putting his pointer finger up in the universal “hang on two secs” motion. It was at this point that my previous experience also engaged my database of reasons one can get popped by the fuzz, and my brain began to cycle through them like a big honkin’ brain powered rolodex. We certainly weren’t speeding, we weren’t riding abreast, I even signalled as we turned. No, none of them ones…

In a mere millisecond I scanned through all traffic, civil and criminal statutes we could possibly have violated while riding bicycles, finally coming to rest on what could be the only logical conclusion. “Dude, we match somebody’s description.”

About then the cop; a young, respectful guy, stepped out of the marked SUV and offered “The reason I pulled you over is because you match the description of a red-bearded guy that was trying to break into houses around here last week.” I shot Goph an “I told ya, dude” smirk and said “I’ll bet you’d very much like to see my ID, wouldn’t ya?”, handing it to him as he approached. “Yes, please” he said, grinning despite himself.

A few minutes later and another call into Comcenter and he was back out of the car and returning my driver’s license, saying “You do see why I pulled you over, don’t you?”. I replied that I of course did, adding that I seem to have a rather generically criminal face. “Remember when Pee-Wee Herman got popped whipping it out in the dirty movie?” sez I. “Um, yeah…” sez the cop. “Well, at the time, I looked just like he did in his mugshot. My cousin Shane still abuses me because of it. I’m totally used to it, no worries.”

He shook his head and chuckled, then asked if I was through Taylor a lot on my bike. I am, I told him. Several times a week. He then asked that since I am, would be cool if he took my photograph to pass around the station so I woudln’t get hassled again. I happilly agreed, as this mug shot will PREVENT future hassle. Historically they have instead been the RESULT of hassle, so this situation would be a welcomed change. I may have issues with authority, but I know what side my bread is buttered on, yo.

So, a quick click, an exchange of thank you’s and we were off.

After a block of silence, Gopher simply stated, in exactly the way Gopher does, “Dude….what the fuck?” At which point I laughed so hard I almost fell off the bike.

True story.

Comments
  1. Y’know, ever since I’ve know you, your stories have always struck me as having a kind of, “No shit, there I was…” feeling about them. I dunno, maybe it’s a valley thing. Which, of course, it probably is. When we tell these crazy stories, we do so in a way that assumes everyone else has crazy stories, and we’re just putting ours out there like we were hanging laundry on the line, skid marks and all.

    That’s one of the things I really miss being down here. Don’t get me wrong, there are some great story tellers hereabouts, but most of ’em seem like they’re bragging, and lack the tin horn, never let the truth get in the way of a good story quality we came up with…

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