The police

I remember when I was 15 (around the time of my ulcer trouble), bicycling to school on a rainy day.  I was always sure to stop at intersections with a red light or a stop sign, and even signalled my stop, but on this day my bicycle skidded into the intersection in a hydroplaning motion. (I'd never had this bike out in the rain before and the brakes didn't work as well as I expected.) I thought, "Drat!"

A policeman in his car saw me, stopped me and chewed me out.  He called me "my man" and I've hated that expression ever since. (Don't ever call me "my man.") I stammered out that the bike had slid on me, but that didn't mollify him.  What bothers me is that I ended up blubbering.  Fifteen-year-olds do not blubber!  I feel like a failed a basic test in life.  I wish I could live my life over and stand up to him.

It had really started when the local newspaper ran a letter by a shoemaker whose shop was near the police station, complaining that the local cops were lazy and always hanging around the station.  So the police became more visible at this time.  But a week or two after this incident, they all got fired.  I can't say I feel any sympathy for the fired cop who'd bullied me.  Indeed, I wish I'd had the chance to say to him something like "I'm the boy on the bicycle you made cry.  I'm pleased that it didn't save your job!"

I recognize that being a policeman can be a tough, dangerous job, and I accept that most cops are doing the best they can.  But too many are ignorant jerks who abuse their power and rely on fellow cops keeping their mouth shut.