Wednesday, 11 June 2014

Page Twenty Four - Gentleman Bikers (Copcast #139)

George had a new operator in the car with him and they were halfway through an extremely uneventful Night Duty, so much so that George was having difficulty keeping his eyes open and his eyelids felt like they were made of lead. What he desperately needed was something to concentrate on that would focus his mind. Just then the answer to his prayers appeared in front of him.

As he drove across a deserted flyover he noticed a solo motorcycle ahead of him and as he slowly gained on it he saw that the rider appeared to be having difficulty in keeping his machine travelling in a straight line. Even closer now he realised that there was a pillion on the bike and that this was the cause of its instability, the pillion's legs were flapping on either side of the rider.

George lit the blue strobes and alternately flashing headlights on his patrol car indicating to the motorcyclist that they should pull over and stop, the flickering blue light bouncing off all the buildings nearby rapidly had the rider's attention and the bike soon stopped. George and his operator emerged from the car and approached the bike rider and the passenger. They were two gentlemen, the pillion apparently inexperienced in the arcane arts of remaining on the back of an inherently unstable machine.

George spoke to the pillion passenger while his operator led the rider a few paces away, positioning the two so that they faced away from each other while George and his colleague could maintain eye contact. While he ran some checks on the two men and their motorcycle, his operator was able to ascertain that they had travelled a few hundred miles from the north of England in search of the rider's ex-boyfriend who lived somewhere to the south of where they had been stopped. The length of the journey and the condition of the bike, a very battered old Kawasaki GT550, reminded him of a line from Star Wars, when Princess Leia caught her first glimpse of the Millennium Falcon, “You came in that? You're braver than I thought”.

Completely unaware of this conversation and satisfied that his checks had revealed nothing untoward about the two motorcyclists, George stepped over to the rider and said “Because of the way you were riding I think you may have been drinking and because we’ve had to stop you, I’m going to ask you to take a breath test. Have you ever blown before?”

The rider, who had been quite taken with George, trying to watch him over his shoulder throughout the stop with an expression something akin to adoration, brightened up and smiled. “Oh yes! Once or twice.”

George still didn’t realise what he had said and looked a little confused but continued anyway. “Okay, I want you to take a deep breath and put you lips round this for me then give me a good long blow until I say stop”.

“With pleasure …” breathed the rider, his previous mission now apparently completely forgotten.

As George held the ESD, and Electronic Screening Device or roadside breath test, for the man to blow into, the man placed his hands around George's, cupping them. The expression on George's face made it evident to his smirking operator that he was beginning to understand parts of the situation that he had thus far been unaware of. The crimson blush that rose from his collar to colour his cheeks seemed to aggravate the pillion who stood to one side with a decidedly sulky expression across his face.

The breath test was negative and the two bike riders were wished safely on their way, then George and his operator returned to their car. George sat silently looking out of the windscreen at the motorcycle's tail-light as it disappeared into the distance. Finally he started the car, set it in gear and without turning said, “I don’t want to hear about this ever again,” before releasing the clutch and driving off.

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