Palo Alto Joe

Palo Alto Joe vs the Campus Police

It is late and dark out. I am Palo Alto Joe and I'm on my bike, riding in my usual style - if no cars are at an intersection I don't see any reason to stop.

Well the next thing I know, I just blew three stops signs in about fifty yards in the middle of Stanford campus, and there is a cop car behind me with his lights on. I think he just wants to get by so I move over to the side of the road, but keep pedaling.

Then he hits the siren. I take a corner and slow down to see if he means for me to stop. I keep riding and he follows me around the corner and is now talking into his PA system, "Pull your bike over!" At this point I think maybe I should just pull over. I've heard that running a stop sign on your bike gets the same fine running it in your car does as dumb as that sounds. Plus I think it is another $78 for not having a light on my bike.

I coast for a second while I contemplate my financial situation and then I remember. I had previously decided that I would never pull my bike over for a cop in a car. I was convinced that no cop in a car could catch me on my bike on campus. Not only that but I often played this very game while riding home from work. I pretend I am James Bond and some evil villian is trying to catch me before I rescue Pussy Galore. So I figure that I am prepared for a mere Stanford cop.

I bolt for the end of this parking lot which dumps into the grass fields of Escondido Village. The cop is driving fast trying to cut me off at then end of the lot. I beat him there. I figure he'll give up because he doesn't want to follow me through the grass. Wrong! No problem. I cut between two buildings where a car can't go and I'm out on a parking lot on the other side. This buys me some time while he goes around the building. Soon he's back on my butt. I cut back in between two other buildings heading back for the same field. There's a fence in my way. The cop pulls up on the street and as I throw my bike over the fence I turn and look him right in the eye. At this point I'm facing running a stop sign (times three) not having a light, and resisting arrest! I'll plead insanity.

I jump over the fence and get back on my bike, - but my chain is off! I push my bike onto someone's patio and line it up next to ten other bikes. I jump into a bush and hide and remind myself that I am not fourteen years old. The cop comes through the fence, flashlight in hand. He goes past me to the far side of this little field.

Three minutes later my legs are cramped and I'm not covered too well because I can see the cop clearly. If he simply turns around and looks my way, I am meat. So I move to another bush a little ways away. The cop starts coming back . He is shining his light right on my bike and right on the spot where I was previously hidden. If he takes two steps inward and just turns his head, I am dead, dead, dead! This is more than I bargained for. I look behind me and realize that I am between a bush and a big window. Inside the window is a family eating dinner - lasagna! They don't seem to notice me, however.

Twelve years later, the cop finally leaves and I sit there for another minute or two and then leave on foot by a different direction. I go back with my roommate half an hour later in completely different clothes and with contacts on instead of glasses, put my roommate on my bike and walk home.

In retrospect and as someone who now carries the title of Palo Alto Joe and all the civic responsibilites that implies, I advise that if you want to run from a cop while on your bike, have a better escape plan than I did. Don't just pretend your James Bond, become James Bond.

I haven't yet sized up the Palo Alto Police force but I suspect that they are better competition than their Stanford cousins whose only real work is breaking up tame little parties every tenth weekend. I would advise, however that you, the reader, do not attempt such exploits. Palo Alto Joe is a trained professional when it comes to biking. Furthermore, not even I, Palo Alto Joe, want to test Palo Alto's one woman bike-riding SWAT team, Downtown Sandra Brown.