As most of you know, i'm a cop that works in the projects/housing authority/hud developments, and i'm usually on a bike. i frequently find myself challenged by neighborhood kids to races and wheelie contests....and i rarely lose 
well, this evening an 11 year old kid on a bmx bike yells, "hey cop..wanna race?!" of course, i can't turn down this challenge, after all...i am the police
so we decide on the race course; a 75 yard stretch to a culdesac, around the culdesac and back to the starting point. did i mention that it just finished raining and i'm riding Kenda Kiniption tires?
we decide on a rolling start and, as usual, the kid thinks he's being original and sneaky by yelling "go!" while he's a few bike lengths ahead. i smile as i take off behind him, gradually shifting gears and catching up to him. i start riding right behind his back tire and heckling him with "i'm just waiting 'til you gas out then i'm gonna coast on the way back.." did i mention that there are about 20+ people out walking the streets observing this test of manhood; a kid challenging a cop to a race, knowing that if he wins he'll live on in neighborhood infamy?
so now i'm beside him, laughing to myself at the sight of him spinning out with his singlespeed bike, knowing all along that my 2x9 drivetrain will easily outmatch him in the long run.....
we fly into the culdesac in a left hand turn, he takes the outside and i pass him on the inside. i notice that my normally tacky Kenda tires are starting to slip a little so i quickly transition to the totally rad flat-track outrigger position. my left foot out, the back is drifting into an impressive power slide, and i smile as i drift by some local gang members virtually patting myself on the back for such a sick show of steez
then the front tire washes out.
my smiles quickly disappear as i hear the sound of metal grinding on the pavement and feel the rip as my elbow and knee rapidly lose those extra layers of skin i wasn't using anyway. ....but i stayed on the bike, both hands on the bars and my foot still on the pedal. i jump up, the kid slows down as he passes me and asks if i'm ok. I check the chain to make sure it's still on then yell, "it's on!" as i throw my leg back over the saddle and take off. the kid is now 20 yards ahead and gaining as i try and recover some momentum. i try and catch up but he cruises past the finish line about 1.5 seconds before me. i am humbled.
the kid comes over and offers a fist bump (not the terrorist type ) and i congratulate him on his victory and assure him that we'll do it again.
the blood on my arm and knee looks worse than it is as the sweat carries it down and off my appendages in little droplets. the other neighborhood kids on bikes all look on in confusion, not sure whether to laugh or clap. my partners are both as close to rolling on the ground in laughter as the uniform and equipment will allow (i'm the bike instructor...not supposed to crash).
then it happens....one of the kids yells out, "that cop is CRAZY!"
my job is now complete. this is community policing at it's best. i am content; stinging and bloody, but content.
life is good.
well, this evening an 11 year old kid on a bmx bike yells, "hey cop..wanna race?!" of course, i can't turn down this challenge, after all...i am the police
so we decide on the race course; a 75 yard stretch to a culdesac, around the culdesac and back to the starting point. did i mention that it just finished raining and i'm riding Kenda Kiniption tires?
we decide on a rolling start and, as usual, the kid thinks he's being original and sneaky by yelling "go!" while he's a few bike lengths ahead. i smile as i take off behind him, gradually shifting gears and catching up to him. i start riding right behind his back tire and heckling him with "i'm just waiting 'til you gas out then i'm gonna coast on the way back.." did i mention that there are about 20+ people out walking the streets observing this test of manhood; a kid challenging a cop to a race, knowing that if he wins he'll live on in neighborhood infamy?
so now i'm beside him, laughing to myself at the sight of him spinning out with his singlespeed bike, knowing all along that my 2x9 drivetrain will easily outmatch him in the long run.....
we fly into the culdesac in a left hand turn, he takes the outside and i pass him on the inside. i notice that my normally tacky Kenda tires are starting to slip a little so i quickly transition to the totally rad flat-track outrigger position. my left foot out, the back is drifting into an impressive power slide, and i smile as i drift by some local gang members virtually patting myself on the back for such a sick show of steez
then the front tire washes out.
my smiles quickly disappear as i hear the sound of metal grinding on the pavement and feel the rip as my elbow and knee rapidly lose those extra layers of skin i wasn't using anyway. ....but i stayed on the bike, both hands on the bars and my foot still on the pedal. i jump up, the kid slows down as he passes me and asks if i'm ok. I check the chain to make sure it's still on then yell, "it's on!" as i throw my leg back over the saddle and take off. the kid is now 20 yards ahead and gaining as i try and recover some momentum. i try and catch up but he cruises past the finish line about 1.5 seconds before me. i am humbled.
the kid comes over and offers a fist bump (not the terrorist type
) and i congratulate him on his victory and assure him that we'll do it again.the blood on my arm and knee looks worse than it is as the sweat carries it down and off my appendages in little droplets. the other neighborhood kids on bikes all look on in confusion, not sure whether to laugh or clap. my partners are both as close to rolling on the ground in laughter as the uniform and equipment will allow (i'm the bike instructor...not supposed to crash).
then it happens....one of the kids yells out, "that cop is CRAZY!"
my job is now complete. this is community policing at it's best. i am content; stinging and bloody, but content.
life is good.
