Wednesday, July 11, 2012

autograph

training a reserve officer, three little kids come up and ask for stickers. the walk away all smiles. one returns a few moments later requesting an autograph. I sign and the reserve signs. now i have a smile.

Road Rash

I am heading south on a residential road, when a motorcycle with no plates comes out of a driveway. I turn on the it. The passenger looks back at me. The driver has already decided he can outrun me, for whatever reason. Motorcycles usually beat cars. The driver start passes a stopped car at an intersection, blowing through the stop sign and accelerating. The chase is on, I call out details. I am half a block away and gaining. The motorcycle is burping black smoke, still passing cars at a high rate of speed, but not putting any distance between us. I close the distance quickly, coordinating with another unit to cut him off around the corner. The driver attempts to navigate two 90 degree turns in quick succession. The second turn, the bike wobbles violently and dumps on it's side, digging into the asphalt and spilling the driver and passenger along the ground. Commands are given, the passenger gets into the fetal position and doesn't move for ten minutes. The driver stands, takes off his helmet and starts backing away looking to run. A quick application of a dry stun, has the driver in custody. Medical arrives and checks both passenger and driver out. The arms and legs of each man are scrapped red and filled with asphalt and oil from the bike. The driver didn't have a license and smells of alcohol. He apologizes. Both men have no serious injuries.