Just got ticketed by a TPD (Tucson Police Department) motorcycle traffic cop who apparently "knows the law very well" while on the way to a job interview. Here's my story...
I was clocked clocked going 24MPH in the bike lane (for you Tucsonans, going North on Campbell from Broadway, across from the UA during rush hour!) by a middle-aged ex-CHiPs extra with a dead rodent under his nose, who then proceeded to pull me over. Now, I had just passed by a UA campus police SUV before going through the radar gun of Tucson's finest [sic] and the young UA cop smiled and waved at me, obviously entertained by what I was riding. When we pulled over, the motorcycle cop pulled up right behind me (mind you, I dared not get off my bike all throughout) and, to my surprise, the UA campus SUV with the young, bright-eyed, mid-20's pseudoauthority at the wheel. Officer Mouse-stache walked up to me after talking quickly to someone on the other end, who obviously had no clue of what was about to happen. He then motioned to Officer Youngpup.
"License, registration, and proof of insurance, please."
"Sure thing," I said, grinning at the golden moment. I handed him my expired ID card (which I was planning on getting updated later that day - long story short, I have an ID card rather than a driver's license because, well, it's suspended). "I can't provide you with proof of insurance or registration because it isn't necessary for the bike."
"Well this is why I'm pulling you over. I understand the law about motorized bicycles here in Arizona and I clocked you going at 24MPH in the bike lane. You understand that law, correct?"
"Yes, officer. The law states that a bicycle with a 'helper motor' [motorized bicycle] is defined as a bike with an engine of 48cc or less and goes less than 20MPH. This bike is 48cc and does not exceed 20MPH."
Officer Youngblood came to my right side while Officer Rodentface stoof on my left. I'm still sitting on my bike. Cetainly a precaution to keep me from riding away. But I wasn't going to miss this chance, no way, even though I glanced over at the alleyways I could venture through to evade the dynamic duo and toyed with the idea, it was nice just to daydream for a split second.
"Well, I caught you doing 24MPH in the bike lane so I'm gonna hve to write you a ticket for that. Also, since your bike is now classified as a Class 3 moped, I will have to penalize you for failure to provide a driver's license, another for failure to provide registration information, and failure to provide proof of insurance. We will have to impound your vehicle as well. Now, is there anyone who can..."
"Sir," I interrupt, "I can assure you that even in the case of going 24MPH, I am going downhill and getting a draft from the passing cars. Regular bicyclis..."
"Sir," as he pulls out his almighty pointer finger of authority, "you do NOT talk back to an officer!" There was a slight pause, and Officer Ratlip's rodent waved in the gentle breeze. He obviously (and selectively) didn't hear what I was saying. "Keep your mouth shut and respect me while I'm talking to you about what is happening here." I'm going to contact the DMV and ensure that this bicycle is not registered. Just sit tight."
So I sat. Not tight, but I sat there with Officer Babyface. He glanced over the bike with his arms crossed, looking at the system for the tiny engine.
"So how many miles per gallon you get on this thing?" he asked. I was pleased that he did, as it also showed me that this young policeman for the university was either playing the "good cop" or is being shown the ropes by the older, more mature city cop. I figured the latter, so I continued to reply more fraternally.
"Gets about 100, 120 miles to the gallon. It's nice to only spend 3 dollars every two weeks on gas." The cop raised an eyebrow, careful not to let something like, "can't beat that" escape from him.
"And you said 49cc? How much did it cost?"
"'Bout $600." This got him to head-nod. "Had a little spill on it not too long ago, too."
"Did you get it from Spooky Tooth?" I snorted, amused that he knew Spooky Tooth.
"No, Got it from AB Powersports on Flowing Wells. But I have been to Spooky Tooth a few times. Good place."
Officer McMouse-stache called the young cop over to his bike. I sat there trying to listen to what they said to each other.
Old Cop: How's business lately?
Young Cop: Eh...
Old Cop: Slow, huh? Yep...
Usually I read the sunday comics, and my favorite character is from the Non-Sequitor panels. His name is Obviousman. If he was around, I'm sure he would've swooped in at that very moment.
They both walk back and take their previous positions. The old cop farts out a "This might be your lucky day. Apparently the DMV system is down or something... normally I'd impound the bike - which I've done to many bike just like this - and you'd have to get it out of impound which is about $150." The inevitable had struck. "But I am going to write you a ticket for failure to provide a driver's license and failure to provide evidence of financial responsibility."
"Officer, I say to you again, that the bike does not need to be registered and I do not require a license. It's in the Arizona Revised Statutes."
"Oh I know about the bill that passed. I could pull it up for you right now if you want to look at it." I denied it, as I was already quite late for my job interview.
"There's a bill about these things?" The young UA jedi asked over me, to the Sith lord.
"Yeah, a couple of years ago some guys from some store that sells these things *paraded* down to City Hall and got a bill passed to legalize these things in the streets. Well, they did it." Officer Geezer McRatface then looked at me. "Were you part of that whole thing, too?" He asked this in a condescending tone.
"No, sir, but I have well educted myself on these laws and abide by them."
"Well, you clearly haven't here." There was a pause from him, giving his pet mouth a chance to settle down from all that bouncing. "I'll be right back with your papers."
"Whatever," I muttered as he went back yet again to his bike, grabbing the freshly printed toilet paper. He came back to me, recited the charges again, and circled a few things to show me his pen worked.
"Where is it you are going?" Young Cop asked.
I looked down and sighed, "To a job interview." I ended it with a fake smile as I looked straight ahead.
Old Cop unhinged my leash. "Well, you're free to go. Take it easy."
---
Went to the job interview (which sucked thanks to arriving so late) and came back home. I explained the situation to my room mate (who went to law school for a bit) and he shook his head and giggled. I decided, for the first time, to actually look at the ticket.
Get this: He didn't even write me up for speeding.
Court date is mid September, so I'm anticipating the moments when the judge I face gets a laugh when I show her my motorized bike and the tickets.
TO BOOT: The carges the cop is trying to give me rack up to the tune of about $1400.
My guess: The motorcycle cop has it out for these things because he rides with a cycling team or something. ****ing pedalers.
