Courtroom Drama

It was a gorgeous day today. I arrived about an hour early at New Paltz so I decided to drive around the town. It’s a small but picturesque little town with tons of college students. As I drive by where I was ticketed for the 4^th time I think to myself that today is such a gorgeous day that everyone must be in as good a mood as myself. There’s something about the sunshine warming your skin after the winter that rejuvenates the soul.

It was 3:30 and my court date was at 4:00. I park and walk up to the courthouse when I hear someone calling my name. Roadkill was parked in the first spot waiting for me. We greet and chatted for a bit till they open the courtroom doors. The place was about twice the size of my living room. We sit down and I look around to a room half way full of people that look like they are gathering for an AA meeting. It was a weird sight indeed. Something out of the 70’s show. I felt out of place, not only because I was wearing suit and tie but also because I have never felt comfortable in courtrooms. I guess it brings back bad memories from when I was a mischievous teen.

As I’m walking back from signing in I hear someone say my last name. I look around and there’s a man with a tan suit and thick black beard standing in the middle of the room with some folders under his arm. I was waiting for him to throw a finger in the air and yell “Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive”. He fit right into this bizarre scene.

We walk over to a corner of the courtroom and talk a bit about what transpired that day when the officer that ticketed me walks over to us and says: ”I don’t understand what it is that you want”. Before I could speak he firmly states: “listen. It’s over and done. I thought I had told you on that day that if you plead not guilty that I would write you up for reckless driving, and you agreed.” Now I’m thinking to myself, what did he expect me to reply to his statement at that point? Minutes before, he had gotten out of his SUV and ran over to me yelling from the top of his lungs “GET OFF THE BIKE! IT’S GETTING TOWED!” So at that point did he expect me to say: “no officer, I will not agree to this and I will see you in court?”

I look over to my attorney and he quickly tells the officer that he would like to speak to me in private. As the officer turns and leaves my lawyer states: ”Damn, he’s got a hard-on for you. I don’t remember him to have been such a prick before.”

So now I’m in “Oh shit” mode. He explains to me that the 3 tickets amount to 9 points and each ticket is probably in the $150 range if I go to trial and I am found guilty, which was a probability. I am dead in the water on at least one of the passing on the rights and he says that in the mood that this officer was in, that he would more than likely fight tooth and nail to get the others in as well.

Things aren’t looking good. So I ask him to go and talk to him once again to see what he can do. After a couple of minutes he comes back and says that the officer said that I passed at least 10 cars on the right when he saw me which is a bunch of crock! I passed one maybe 2 cars but numbers didn’t matter at this point. What was perfectly clear was that this cop wasn’t giving an inch. There’s no doubt in my mind that the reason why he had it in for me was because the guy I was riding with that day took off. Unable to catch him, his manly hood must’ve been hurt and took it out on the other guy (me). To put my license in risk of being revoked for passing a car going approximately 15 mph is downright ridiculous. Let alone to have staged the type of show he put on that day.

Back to the case. My lawyer came back and said that the only thing he could do was to plead guilty on one of the passing on the right and to bring down the other one to a lesser point (but still) moving violation, which would only carry 2 instead of 3 points.

I may be a bit slow in math but I know that 5 is less than 9 and to risk going to trial against a dickhead cop that has a Ron Jeremy sized boner for me is not where I want to be. So I said deal.

We walked up to the Judge, which happened to be in a great mood (Just like I thought everyone would be on such an extraordinarily beautiful day). She looked at me and said, “How are you doing today?” with a great big smile. Half of me wanted to believe that she was in a good mood and the other half was skeptical as to what may lay behind what looked to be a sincere smile. With my bad court experiences, I’ve become quite the cynic.

She looked at the tickets looked at me and said “I’m sure your council has informed you of what the implications of your plea are. Etc, etc.”. I comply and she states the fines at $55 a piece with a $45 court fee for each. In my mind I was saying, “That’s not even a NYC parking ticket!! As I glance over to the officer to see him grimace at the amount of the fine.

“Would you like to pay that today or do you need some time?”

“I’ll pay today. Thank you, your Honor”

As Roadkill, my lawyer and I were walking out of the courtroom, my lawyer smiles and says, “he was so pissed that the fine was so low”. Something that was extremely obvious by the expression on his face. He didn’t even hide it.

We chat a bit in the front steps of the courthouse and the officer passes by in his truck. Takes a long hard stare at all three of us and continues slowly on his way.

So that’s how my odd experience turned out today. I wouldn’t say that I came out winning because the whole ordeal cost me a whole lot. Not as much as I initially thought but when you add the time I had to take off from work, the trip up to New Paltz, the Lawyer and the fines, it did add up.

Roadkill said to me that I could’ve probably done this without the attorney, I’m not so sure. It was my first time in traffic court and with the disposition of the cop today, I’m not to sure that I could’ve negotiated down the second ticket and got the third thrown out. It was definitely a learning experience. A costly one but those are usually the ones that stick.

Fire Breather

I grew up lusting over motorcycles.
Me being an only child, my mother would never agree to me having one. I believe it was my 15th birthday when I went to visit my uncle in Orlando that I saw a little 50cc Honda Aero sitting in the corner of his garage that I fell in love with. My mother is constantly looking over my well-being but as she saw my eyes light up, and it being my B-day, I knew I had her on the ropes. A week later I was riding around the complex in which we lived with my new-to-me little Honda. I beat the snot out of it and a couple months later I had a 250 for terrorizing the neighborhood. Had that bike for about a year and then went into a 10+ year moto-hibernation until I bought my ZX6R.

I was a kid back when I had my 50 and then the 250. It was all about the lust back then but now it's much more than that. With bills to pay and responsibilities not only to yourself but also to your family one tends to pay closer attention to the things that make one happy. Maybe it's a selfish nature that we all instinctively posses but I truly believe that Motorcycling is one of those things that no matter what you're going through in your personal life brings a freedom that is almost unparalleled to any other sport. The feeling that you know you can escape from everything that is going on around you and feel at peace.

I went to visit a physical therapist for the first time for the back injury I had 2 years ago. When I explained to him that I was involved in a motorcycle accident he was quick to inform me that bikes are "suicide machines" and that his son had bought one and he had torched it for his own good. As I pondered getting up from the chair and getting a different doctor, I thought to myself: this is something that he will never understand no matter what I tell him. I could've tried to explain to him how I always use proper protective gear and how I’m constantly honing my riding skills doing parking lot practice and reading about how to properly operate a bike to minimize the risk of an accident but it would've been useless. So I stopped his rant, looked him dead in the eyes and told him that there was no way that I was going to stop riding my bike so he should get off of the subject. Just thinking about not riding was getting me quite upset.

I can somewhat understand the train of thought of someone that is not involved in the world of riding. On the outside peering in it would seem like we are a bunch of fire breathing fools that have no fear and regard life as a joke. They could not be any farther from reality. How can something, which brings so much joy and brings you so close to nature, be viewed as a bad thing?

Having 2 children I have no doubt that they will bring me plenty of joy for years to come. I will want to shelter them just as much as my mother used to and still does to this day and just as much as my doctor sheltered his son by torching his bike. The difference will be that the day that
I see that gleam in their eyes for something which brings out a passion in them I will remember days like these and be happy for them. And that only people like us “fire breathing fools” will be able understand.