The Policeman is our Friend. . .Part Two

It takes a little over a year for someone who moves to a new state to be plotted back on the grid.  It comes in the form of jury duty and Moondoggy is definitely back on the radar.  Living where we do, with a high density of retirees, this area is ripe for the picking.

Jury duty here is a week long obligation. . .or one trial, whichever is more painful.   Moondoggy received his notice and was scheduled to call in on a Sunday evening to see if he needed to appear at the courthouse the next day or remain on call the whole week and stay within an hour of the courthouse. The first call was a reprieve and an admonishment to call again the next evening.  This continued all week until Thursday when the recording directed him to call in again Friday morning by 10:30.  Waiting around, he made the call at the appointed time and was then directed to appear immediately.  Begrudgingly, he showed up within the hour and was then directed to wait an hour and half until the lawyers and judge returned from lunch. Upon their return, the judge gave an overview of the trial, a DUI case and named the defendant as well as the arresting officers.  And that's when Moondoggy's ears perked.  The arresting officer's name rang a bell. . .and from what he could see, the guy looked vaguely familiar.  It was him, the motorcycle cop who had brazenly pulled Moondoggy over, on his bicycle several months ago and issued the $300 ticket.  The incident had been festering in Moondoggy's craw for months - the giver of the "chicken shit" ticket now a reviled legend. It was so bad that all I had to do was make a joke about stop signs and I could raise Moondoggy's hackles beginning a tirade that could last for hours. And there he was, in the same courtroom with the enemy. The enemy needed him.

By about 1:30, the beginning of jury selection began, seating all but 2 jurors by 3:00.  Moondoggy thought he was in the clear until they dismissed the rest of the group and decided to pick the last 2 jurors from the remaining group. . . of which Moondoggy was one.  Then, it was time for a small break.  By now, he is seething.

At 3:45,  they only need one more juror and they really want to get this jury empaneled and go home for the weekend. Moondoggy is called for questioning.  Normally, he is the first one to believe that someone who drives drunk should be prosecuted - a prosecuting attorney's dream. In most cases, that might be the reason he would have difficultly being impartial.  But when the judge asked him, "Is there any reason you might have difficulty being impartial," the weight of the stress of a week of being on jury call, the now four and half hours spent waiting for them to get this jury set on Friday afternoon (which meant that he would be obligated into the next week) and the trifecta of the resurging anger over the bike ticket inspired his response. "Yes, in fact, there is, your Honor.  I believe the arresting officer - Officer M- there, is the same officer who pulled me over and wrote me a ticket. . . while riding my bike."  The judge, who had been shuffling papers, looked up and suppressed a smile."Your bike?"

"Yes, my bike.  He said I blew a stop sign in a residential area." The titters and giggles started in earnest, first with the empaneled jury and then moved on to the attorneys and the judge.  "It wasn't a pleasant experience," Moondoggy continued, "$300 worth of unpleasant, actually."

The judge pulled it together and asked, "And you would have difficulty remaining impartial?"

"Yes, I believe I would."

It took about 3 seconds for the judge to dismiss him with the blessing of both attorneys who were still cracking up.  Moondoggy exited the courtroom but not without stopping for an extra long gaze at the cop who was now the butt of a courtroom joke.  Moondoggy just smiled. Karma comes full circle.  Now we just have to wait wait for karma to deal with the cyclists. 

The Officer Is Your Friend. . .Unless He Hates You

Something happened last spring that changed my view of an activity I enjoy.  I hate it when that happens.  Moondoggy and I enjoy biking.  Biking is big out here (it's a year round sport, thank you, Mother Nature) and on any given day it is not unusual to see several pelotons of biking enthusiasts in their matching spandex, whirring en masse down the roads along the dedicated bike lanes and there are bike lanes everywhere here. I am not of that ilk - spandex on me is a fashion NEVER and my bike is not a road bike per se.  It is an upright, old-fashioned handle bar model and I sit atop and calmly tool down the road - think Wicked Witch the West.  I am not a threat on a bike and road bikers generally tolerate my presence.  Moondoggy, however, is far more avid and has been for years (he's ridden the Canadian Rockies, Grand Canyon to Washington state and up many local mountains, here) and he used to wear the spandex but, no more.  The bikers here, the spandex wearing, group riding die-hards, have a bad reputation and neither of us could figure out why until two things happened.

I know it's a problem in other places because I Googled it (Why are bikers such assholes), but here, especially, the large groups of people on bikes, have an attitude that pisses off drivers and pedestrians alike and I've heard complaints from people about "those" bikers early on. They want and have road rights (Ok), they want safety (Of course) but they also want to choose which road laws they have to obey and they do so on a whim.  Case in point, I was once at a stop light where the dedicated bike path ended about 25 feet before the intersection.  The biker (and his 20 matching friends), instead of waiting behind whatever car they came up behind - like cars do, decided to ride between the curb and the car to get to the intersection and turn right.  He (and his 20 friends) were indignant, furious even that I had not (nor had the five cars behind me) left 3 feet on the right so he could get by.  He decided to stop directly in front of my car and say so, "Bitch, you HAVE to give me 3 feet."  Um, no, I don't.  I have to give you 3 feet if you are RIDING on the road and there is no path and I come upon you and decide to pass. . .then, I have to give you 3 feet.  That is the law.  Otherwise, YOU, you little biker prick with all your biker prick friends, have to follow road law and get behind me (VC21650). And now, I get why regular people hate bikers. Apparently cops do, too.

Fast forward to last Spring.  Moondoggy was out on a lengthy ride that takes him through a residential area where the pelotons like to go.  He rode up a long hill, made it to the top and then turned to ride down, a time to enjoy the spoils of having pedaled up.  He is a lone rider.  He likes it that way. And as he is cruising down, wind in his hairs when along the path he hears a loud siren and it's coming up right behind him.  It's a motorcycle cop, lights strobing, and Moondoggy's getting pulled over and ticketed.  Why?  "Because we've had complaints from residents about bikers not stopping at the stop signs." People are slowing, taking in the scene as they drive by, this motorcycle cop with full on siren and lights flashing like it's a major bust, just sitting on the bike path as he lectures my gray haired husband.  Moondoggy looks back - there was a T intersection with a 3 way stop.  There was no sign on the bike path, no road on his side that intersected where he was riding and he had ridden through but, technically, had he been driving a car, it would have been a blown stop sign.  Ergo - ticket.  And while the motorcycle cop is writing out his $300 ticket (a moving violation on your license by the way), a whirring peloton whizzes by, ON THE ROAD, blowing by not one, not two but THREE stop signs (4 way stops, I might add where there is real cross traffic).  Moondoggy points out the mass violation to which Motorcycle cop responds, "I'm just one man, sir." The cop was as much of a prick as the bikers are and he (we) are left with a very bad taste in our mouth about both bikers and cops. Moondoggy has carried that anger about being caught in between the ongoing battle between cyclists and local cops not sure which he hates more when Karma stepped in recently and showed him that yes, there is an upside to anger.
. . .to be continued.