There were three reasons why I rode my bike to work this morning:

1. I’m trying to be more environmental
2. Save gas money
3. Get exercise

My point is, I didn’t have to. I easily could have driven in comfort in my mom’s Mercedes, catching up on the day’s news with the air conditioning going. Instead, there I was, sweating my ass off on a slight incline in one of America’s wealthiest neighborhoods – Old Del Mar. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t suffering. I really love riding my bike to work. The salty ocean breeze, the sunshine on my shoulders, passing by cars sitting in traffic, listening to Burning Spear on my iPod.

That’s exactly what I was doing right around 13^th street when literally 6 inches away from me a motorcycle appeared and a fat, stubby finger motioned for me to pull over.

I swerved to the right thinking the dumb fuck was going to hit me. Then I looked up and saw it was a cop. My heart was beating hard – I was pissed that he got so close to hitting me.

Cop: Identification please.
Oso: You know, you should really be more careful when you pull over cyclists. You nearly hit me.

I handed over my driver’s license.

Cop: I wouldn’t do that.

Wouldn’t do what? Is he saying that he wouldn’t have hit me? Am I like supposed to say thanks for sparing my life?

Cop: Is this address correct?
Oso: No.
Cop: Have you notified the DMV?
Oso: What if I haven’t been driving? [notice the phrasing]
Cop: Doesn’t matter. You need to notify them of your change of address immediately.

I didn’t say anything, but please. If I’m not driving then why in the fuck would I have to tell the Department of Motor Vehicles where I’m living?

Cop: I pulled you over because you didn’t stop at the stop sign. It is also illegal to be listening to headphones while riding.

He pulls out his citation book.

Oso: So there must not be too much crime around here?
Cop: Nope. He’s looking very serious at his citation book. Apparently filling one of these out is tough business.
Oso: So, you pull over a lot of cyclists for not stopping at stop signs?
Cop: Yup. He furrows his brow in contemplation.
Oso: Oh yeah, like how many, how many have you pulled over today?
Cop: Five today.
Oso: Five! Wow. The station must be really upset about all these cyclists breaking the law?
Cop: Yup.
Oso: Well, that’s good that you guys are enforcing things at least.
Cop: Yup. Long pause, then: Cause we have to file the reports when someone gets hit. He looks so proud of himself after saying that.

Then came my favorite part of the whole thing. A fellow police officer, also on a motorcycle, pulls up next to us. Nobody says anything for about a minute. Then the new cop plays around with his walkie talkie and says to my cop – let’s call him Boo Radley – "code 7.11.1130" – with expecting eyes.

Boo Radley looked stumped. Or maybe that’s just his natural predisposition. I knew exactly what the other guy was talking about and was just about to clarify for my friend Boo when the other guys says, "meet at 7-11 at 11:30."

Boo Radley: Roger.

Oso: So, does that happen often, cyclists getting hit at stop signs?
Boo Radley: Sure, happens all the time. He must’ve been at the toughest part of the form because his tongue was poking out of his mouth with his eyebrows deeply furrowed. He looked like a confused monkey.
Oso: Really? So, when was the last time a bicyclist was hit at a stop sign?

Long pause. Like two or three minutes without a word.

Boo Radley: Um, just a little while ago, he was airlifted to the hospital.
Oso: Funny, I didn’t hear about that. Where did it happen?
BR: Over in Encinitas. Yup. Over there, near uh, you know, over by Village Park.

No, I didn’t know. Nor have I been able to find anything about it since. He handed me my citation and then came a peppy suntanned couple in white tennis clothes and they greeted each other with happy first names.

The guy’s teeth were too white. His skin looked more orange than tan. His wife’s plastic tits where begging for some breathing room.

Boo Radley to Mr. Colgate: You know, I heard from your brother last night, the one running for city council.
Colgate: Oh yeah!? That’s great! He’s always saying such great things about you. He thinks your great!

Apparently Colgate likes the word "great." Then the wife is about to say something and Boo looks up from her rack.

Oso: I’m sorry to interrupt but I don’t think I was going 20 MPH.
BR: Well, that’s just an estimate.
Oso: What does "P.F. Max" stand for?
BR: The P.F. Max of a stop sign is 0.
Oso: So "P.F. Max" stands for "speed limit?" I say it slow enough so that Boo doesn’t get confused.

BR doesn’t say anything though and sneaks another peak at the tits. The peppy couple is patiently waiting for me to finish so they can go on courting the police department for an official endorsement for Colgate’s brother.

Oso: What is a "beat?"
BR: [now he's getting pissed] A beat is a beat. I’m part of beat 297.
Oso: Oh yeah? That’s cool. So it’s like your squadron?

Boo once again doesn’t respond though. I sign the citation and give it back to him.

BR: You’re lucky, this isn’t going to affect your driving record.

Why do cops pull this bullshit? It must be part of their training: end with the "you’re lucky" trick. Like, "you’re lucky, you really got away with a good deal." Maybe they have consultants come from Tijuana’s market.

Oso: Well that’s good because I wasn’t driving was I?

I looked at the time on the ticket and realized that I should get going, that I barely had time to shower in the gym before work. Of course, it was tough saying goodbye to Boo, Colgate, and Melons, but I’m a bear on the move.

I don’t have a problem getting pulled over for breaking the law – Boo’s just doing his job. But here’s the thing – you’ve got to enforce it consistently. San Diego is a big bicycle area. On the weekends, Coast Highway is like an ant path of yuppies on their $4,000 bikes. And not one of them stops at a stop sign. Why? Because there’s no need to. Bicyclists have the right away always and should be expected to treat a four way stop as a yield. That is, slow down, look all directions, and if there are no cars approaching, continue through the intersection.

This is exactly what I did. To expect a cyclist to come to a complete stop, shift down gears, unclip his/her pedals, start up again, clip in, and shift up gears at a completely barren stop is ludicrous.

Boo Radley was clearly filling a quota. Why else five identical citations in one day on a law that is never ever enforced?

I stopped by my gym, did some sit-ups, and hopped in the shower. There was a two hour sustained rush as soon as I got to work, but then it calmed down and I called the Encinitas Sheriff’s Station.

Secretary: Encinitas Sheriff’s Station.
Oso: Hi there. I was stopped by officer Petracheck today for passing a stop sign on my bicycle and I was wondering if I could obtain a record of how many times that citation was issued today compared to the last month.
Secretary: Well, let’s see. Actually, the person you’d want to talk to is out of the office today. Hmm, in fact, you’d probably have to file a report with crime analysis. But I can transfer you to the traffic secretary’s voicemail if you’d like.
Oso: Yeah, that’d be great. You know, I’ve got some extra time after work tomorrow. I could just come in and make some copies of the records?
Secretary: Oh, no, no. I’m afraid you’re going to have to call and file a report so that we can pull all the files. It’s quite a long and laborious process.
Oso: You mean there’s no database of citations?
Secretary: To the best of my knowledge, no. And you know [I can tell she couldn't resist this] it is illegal to not stop at a stop sign. Even on a bicycle.
Oso: I know, but I’ve been riding around here for years and not once have I been pulled over even though I never stop at stop signs. Nor does anybody else. I just want to know if this is going to start being enforced or if it’s a one day only sort of thing.
Secretary: Well, what happens is we get complaints that we put down in a log book and then we enforce the area where the complaints are coming from.
Oso: Really? Well, can I get copies of that log book also?
Secretary: [sounding regretful that she brought it up] Well, um, I don’t know how that works, I think you’ll have to get it subpoenaed.
Oso: Right, ok, well, I’ll leave a message with the traffic secretary then.

I know what you’re thinking: Oso, aren’t you making a bigger deal out of this than it’s worth? The consensus of the regulars at work seemed to be, "challenge it, cops never show up at court and you won’t have to pay anything."

That’s not it though. I don’t mind paying the citation. Especially since I did break the law. But the law itself doesn’t make any sense and I want it changed. Sure there are many much more important fights to fight and I recognize that, but this isn’t going to take much time. Putting a few petitions out at all the major bicycle and triathlon stores will get the ball rolling.

Plus, I’m going to get my hands on those records and make a fuss in the local media about quotas. We all know they exist despite the fact that the police department consistently denies it.

This is about transparency. It’s about enforcing the law in a consistent matter, not an arbitrary "we need some cash" fashion. The San Diego Sheriff and Police department have a notorious history of secrecy and brutality and any slight challenge to that is a step in the right direction for our civil liberties.

Not only that, but in such a traffic-congested area with ever increasing air pollution, riding a bicycle should be encouraged, not discouraged. One of the great arguments I make to commuters for riding their bike rather than driving alone in their car is that, during rush hour, you get home just as fast if not faster. That argument doesn’t hold with countless, unnecessary stops along the way. Furthermore, listening to headphones at a low volume is no different than listening to one’s stereo in a car with the windows rolled up. In fact, I am sure I can hear much more than anyone listening to the radio with their windows rolled up. I know because I pay attention to the random bits of conversation I hear passing by pedestrians on my way to work and make little haiku’s in my head. (I know, I’m crazy). The point is, cyclists should be allowed to listen to headphones at a low volume.

Word.