Traffic Police, Story Two

Riding home from the Rock Bar, after a friend’s birthday party, 4AM, drunk as all hell.

Speeding to quickly get to the destination and to avoid getting caught. The traffic police patrol car spots me at the beginning of Baghramyan and pulls me over. I don’t stop and keep riding along Baghramyan towards my home, with the hope that the policemen would give up on pursuing a motorcycle right away. The dudes seem tough; they put on the siren and start a pursuit. I cross the Baghramyan/Proshyan intersection under a red light, speeding somewhere around 130km/h, ride across the Barekamutyun bridge, and check my mirrors. The cops don’t appear to be there, and I no longer hear the siren or see the flashing lights. Looks like they’ve lost me. “Losers!”. I ride on. On the intersection of Komitas/Papazian, I turn left and — boom — smash my front wheel straight into the right door of the police car that was pursuing me! I barely hold the motorcycle. The policeman behind the door puts the window down, looking at me in awe, speechless.

“Hi!” I go on, looking straight into the guy’s eyes with a nervous smile on my face.

“Stop at the right side of the street!!” the other guy screams into the mike.

“Can I stop at the left side? I’m going to Papazian street, that’s where my home is.”

“STOP AT THE RIGHT SIDE!!” yells the policeman.

“Aye, officer”

I pull the motorcycle over to the right, get off. The guys are extremely pissed. The one with the higher rank runs towards me and goes on enumerating, hardly catching his breath:

“You refused to stop at a traffic police officer’s demand, you ran away from the traffic police, you crossed a red light, rode on the opposite lane, more than twice exceeded the speed limit for riding in a residential area, you smashed into our goddamn door, and I can already feel standing here that you are drunk! Do you even imagine what kind of a fine are you going to pay?!”

“I’m sorry officer, I didn’t see that you pulled me over!”

“Are you kidding me? You’re lying! You saw us stopping you and you rode away, jumping under the red light!”

“Did I? I thought it was yellow!”

“It was red, and you’re lying! Now tell me that you didn’t realize you were riding on the opposite lane!”

“I didn’t!”

“You’re lying!”

“OK officer, what now?”

“Now I’m taking away your driving license, and you’re gonna have to pay enormous fines! Look at our door!”

“Please sir, it was really late and I just wanted to get home quickly! How about we solve this otherwise?”

“What’s your occupation?” the officer looks inquisitive

“I’m a student!” (Rubik says that this always works with the police. They start pitying you because of your social standing and income. But the officer didn’t buy that.)

“You’re a student riding a brand new 2009 Honda CBF? You’re lying!!”

“Uh sir, how about I just give you all the contents of my wallet and we part?” I take out my wallet.

“How much have you got in there?”

“Well I only have 5,000 drams!”

The officer looks in my eyes suspiciously for a second, then goes on: “Deal, you’re gonna give us all the contents of your wallet. Except we’re gonna check your wallet ourselves!”

He grabs the wallet from my hands, opens it… and takes all ~70,000 drams that I have in it.

“Some twisted goddamn asshole you are!” he mumbles, walking back to his car.

Disclaimer: this story does not represent my personality in any way. Honest!

Safety disclaimer: this story is fictional. I mean, what’s with the filing a lawsuit shit?!

Traffic Police, Story One

Ever now and then I’m having to drive a car instead of my motorcycle, particularly when a lot of baggage and/or a lot of passengers are involved.

So one of these days I had to drive my girl over to the airport with the SUV where she could depart to Amsterdam for her Eurotrip. On the way back, somewhere on the Paraqar road, a traffic police car was standing right in the middle of the road, very obviously hunting for prey. I spotted the car very early, checked my lights, my safety belt, my driving position and of course my speed and nailed it at 60 km/h (no person in a sane state of mind ever drives less than 80 km/h on the Paraqar road).

Right after passing them, the cops turned on the siren and pulled me over. “God damn it,” I thought, “everything was perfect, what the fuck did I do wrong?”

So I pull at the nearest convenient section of the road, put the window down, my hands on the wheel. The officer approaches. He’s a tan and fit dude in his early thirties:

“Your documents please”

“What was the offense?”

“You’re driving 65 km/h in a residential area”

“Dude, I was doing specifically 60 and paying close attention to that, too!”

He looks at me for a moment, takes a look at my documents (they are perfectly fine), then goes on in a really interesting way:

“Speeding is a very serious offense. I’m gonna have to fine you for 20,000 drams and take away your driving license.”

“Seriously though, I did not exceed 60 km/h!”

“If you disagree, you can go to a court with this case. There is a standard procedure for that. If you win, all your fine will be refunded by the State.”

He knows exactly what he’s saying. I will never go through the court hassle in Armenia and even if I do I will never think (perhaps mistakenly) that it can possibly be won. So I sigh.

“Dude, I am no going to go through any lawsuit. I don’t have the time for that and I’m sure neither do you. But I am sure as hell not paying 20,000 for going 60 km/h, and giving up my driving license isn’t going to happen either.”

“How so?”

“I have no idea!”

“You look like a fine mate. How about I fine you just for 5,000?”


“Step out of your car, come pay it over at ours.”

I get out of the car and approach theirs. Give the other cop the 5,000 and walk back to my car. They certainly give me no official piece of paper confirming the payment. Something crosses my angry mind and I think of a quick plan.

Before opening the door of my car, I make it obvious that I am checking their license plate number, then I sit in the car, take my cellphone and dial a friend. The cops look suspicious. They drive away. After a 2-minute chat with my pal about random shit, the cops take two U-turns and stop by my car again. Then the one cop that is not driving asks me to put my window down. I am still on the phone, so I ask my friend to wait. The cop looks very obviously terrified.

“Why aren’t you driving away?”

“I am making an important call. As far as I know, driving when talking on the mobile phone is against the law!” I am then making a move to go back to the phone. The cop immediately interrupts:

“Say,” he says, “I saw your driving license had an A-class permit stamped. Do you ride a motorcycle?”

I nod.

“So considering the road we’re on, you just had to take a car this time to drive a family or a friend over to the airport, right?” he looks excited.

“That’s right, I had to drive my girlfriend for a flight to Amsterdam.”

“So then you mainly ride a motorcycle, not a car!” he looks like he just made a discovery.

“That’s precise!”

“Should have mentioned that earlier, mate… Good luck!!”

The cop hands me back my 5,000 dram bill and they quickly drive away. I smile and take back my phone where my friend is waiting.

“What was going on?” he asks.

“All is well! I’ll call you back tomorrow, bro!”