I thought it was going to be a routine run to the market, grabbing that just before midnight beer as I finished my work on a Wednesday night. The Red Sox had just won the World Series and I thought I owed it to myself. I borrowed a bike from a friend and gunned it down Middle Path, wind in my hair, not a care in the world as late-October Kenyon flew past me. Little did I know how quickly tables would be turned that night.
I made it to the Market in what felt like record time and bought a growler of Sam Adams (it was the World Series afterall). I pulled out of the market hopped on the bike and raced back to Old Kenyon. I decided to turn on to College Park Street to avoid Middle Path with the slightly flat tires. As I turned though, I could feel the presence of a car behind me, I looked back and saw none other than our fine Sheriff with his lights flashing.
I went along and hugged the curb a little tighter. I thought I might as well let him go by, he was probably busting up some really crazy Wednesday night party. He didn’t pass me though, he rolled down his window and drove alongside me. I wasn’t really sure what was going on so I slowed a little, he slowed too. He motions for me to pull over, at which point I’m freaking out. I did that thing where even though I’m of age I felt like he was going to be all “you were born on a leap year and you’re really 10-years old!”
So I pull over in front of Peirce and he gets out of the squad car and asks me if I know why he pulled me over. At this point my “I-don’t-care-about-anything” attitude kicked in and I wanted to respond, “How fast was I going officer?” But I didn’t, because I’m not crazy so I just responded “No.” Turns out he pulled me over for blowing through a stop sign on a bike at 11:50 on a Wednesday.
The Sheriff then proceeds to ask me for my identification. After taking down my information, radioing back to HQ and making sure I didn’t have a warrant out for my arrest, he let me out of his custody and told me to tell my friends what happened. So consider this a warning. Do not blow through stop signs on a bike in the dead of night in sleepy ol’ Gambier because the Sheriff does not mess around.