I’ve been riding my bike to work for several summers. Yes, I am a fair weather bike rider. And it’s important for you to know I sweat. A lot.July was particularly hot, almost 100 degrees which is significant heat in the green valley of Oregon. I was riding my bike home in my small black tight shorts and white tee shirt.
You should also know my bike is a purple cruiser with a book holder on the back and I wear a bike helmet and I am past the age of 18.
As I’m riding home all I can focus on is the reward of a tall glass of strawberry lemonade waiting in my refrigerator. I made a calculated decision to by-pass a stop sign on a residential street in order to reach my drink quencher. Not a car in sight as I pedaled a wee bit faster to make it home faster through the stop sign. And wouldn’t you know it, I hear a siren. Police siren. I thought I should pedal faster since I’m blocking his turn I’m certain. I pedal faster. The siren still sounds might close. I attempt another gear and pedal as fast as my legs will allow. Then I hear, “you on the bicycle pull over.” Surely that voice isn’t after me so I look behind my shoulder to make sure and then I heard, “yes you, pull over.” Oh shoot, it’s me.
I had to hold my bicycle with one hand since I hadn’t (read my husband) hasn’t installed a kick stand. The police officer asks me if I know why he pulled me over.
“Why no.” I hesitantly say. Always deny. It’s that what you are suppose to do when pulled over a cop?
“Do you have identification?” the police officer asks me.
“It’s in my backpack.” I tell him. “May I open it?” I thought I should ask permission first. I didn’t want him to think I was hiding anything dangerous.
I balanced my backpack on my book holder and one handedly opens the pack to dig for the ID. The very first visible item is my bra. Great. I believe my ID is at the bottom of my pack. I pull out my grandma size white bra and placed it on my seat.
Next item, my underwear. I take out the purple leopard print underwear and place it on top of my bra. Sure wish I had something dangerous in my bag now. The police officer is all eyes.
“Where do you work?” He asks me and I know what he is really thinking, your undergarments don’t look like they both belong to you.
Finally, the ID. The police officer does the standard take the ID back to the police car to check for warrants or whatnots and tells me the price for running a stop sign is $179 bucks. At which point I told him I was going to pick up my bike and throw it at him. Without skipping a beat the police officer tells me we are being videotaped and points to his car and I actually turned around and wave (so the camera could get a good picture of me I suppose.) Luckily, the officer didn’t take my threat ….well as a threat and let me go with just a warning.
Needless-to-say, I was pretty miffed when I got home. Pulled over on my bicycle, gez. I thought a shower would cool me down. I glanced at the mirror and had to do a double take. I was wearing a white tee shirt and I had soaked it with sweat. Oh, that’s it. It was a wet tee-shirt contest and I was the riding billboard.
Glad the officer didn’t give me a ticket for obscenity.
I threw away the tee-shirt.
I love this story!
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