A few months ago and for only the second time in my life, I was pulled over by a police officer whilst driving on a freeway. I was driving at a speed well under the posted limit. My first thought was that the said constable must be plastered. OK that was not my first thought. To be perfectly honest I did not have a clue as to why he had pulled me over. I was not speeding, I was not driving dangerously in any way shape or form and I was not doing drugs and/or alcohol not that he could know that without stopping me. I had both hands on the wheel, I was not tailgating, perhaps I thought he has run out of cigarettes and wants to ask for one given tobacco’s horrendous addiction. Don’t get me going. He would be out of luck with the latter given I do not smoke and never have but of course he wasn’t to know that.
I racked what remains of my aging brain. Perhaps he thought I was going too slow given we were on a freeway. Not a chance. I most always drive at the posted maximum speed or just under. I had known for some distance and time that there was a police car behind me. For most of that time he had not had any flashing lights on but now suddenly he had. I was driving my BMW Z4. Perhaps he had a ‘thing’ about German sports cars or maybe he was interested in making an offer for it? Not that I would sell the best quality and most fun car I have ever owned and there have been more than a few. I put my four way flashers on and then gradually pulled over and came to a stop.
The constable came to my by then open window and announced that he had pulled me over for driving without insurance! Me driving without insurance is a non starter period. End of conversation. I would not drive one foot with a gun to my head without insurance. And anyway, how could he possibly know that I was driving without insurance even if I was? Saint’s preserve us. Clearly he had the wrong guy. End of story. Except that it wasn’t. Oh and by the way, he didn’t ask me to show my insurance documents, he knew definitively from tail gating me and directing a (magic?) beam at my number plate from some no doubt computerized gadget he had that indeed I was not insured. I did of course have my insurance document aboard. Sure enough, it had expired and for the first and hopefully last time yes I was mind blowingly if unwittingly, driving without insurance.
Below is a letter I sent to the Chief Constable to which the officer I dealt with answers. It turned out I could not have encountered a more professional, personable and common sense centric individual if I had requested one. It was a pleasure doing business with him. Should I have eventually had an accident blissfully unaware that my insurance had expired, I could have been faced with all kinds of litigation including injuring another driver and/or passengers therewith. It doesn’t bear thinking about. I cringe at the thought of the dire possibilities. In other words the officer unknowingly did me a huge favour. Unlike every year I have been on the planet and of driving age, I had not received an annual insurance renewal document in the mail. Not from my general insurance company and not from the Insurance Corporation of British Columbia our provincial government’s auto insurance monopoly. ICBC must no longer be able to afford the postage stamps nor apparently could my private insurance sales provider who is allowed to and does represent ICBC.
Relatively recently and apparently without general public notification, our provincial government (i.e. British Columbia, Canada) in my opinion in utter stupidity had moved away from having one’s auto insurance expiry date affixed to the rear number plate as a part of one’s insurance documentation. If that isn’t a good reminder of the due date I don’t know what is. It has worked for me for more years than I care to remember! Tough luck is our provincial government’s new approach apparently. The change it turns out, does not stop the police from checking one’s insurance status via the rear plate numbers and letters whilst they are driving. (Yes they key them into a computer and voila!) But it does of course omit the public’s opportunity to periodically check if he or she is still covered by a simple glance at the plate! (OK right now and from memory, email me your renewal date if known to bdevonald@telus.net.) Can you do it straight off the bat? Good on you if you can. A beam from a hand held instrument aimed at my number plate by the constable, executed whilst driving solo close behind and thus introducing the risk of a rear ender accident, he pushes another button and bingo a computer somewhere, conceivably one imagines even if it is located on the moon and the result is instantly available to the operator, i.e. the constable in this case, in likely less than a nanosecond. Happy high technology motoring!
We were not done yet. Rightly the officer would not let me drive an inch since his gadgetry confirmed definitively that yes I had no insurance. He instructed me to phone an insurance broker of my choice or one he had to hand. I chose the latter for ease and simplicity and dialed. When the call went through we had an instant shouting match. Not because of anger but because of the traffic noise. I and the police officer were on the embankment of a freeway with a huge amount of traffic going by. Holding a telephone conversation without shouting was impossible so I shouted as did the recipient at the other end whose understanding of English it turned out, did not extend to a Yorkshire UK/Canadian accent – even my by now barely identifiable as Yorkist accent, all be it moderated sort of, to Canadian vocalization.
‘Ey-up’ * for example meant nothing to him. Another voice came on slightly easier to understand. Over the nightmarish automobile traffic noise melee in which I was embroiled, I yelled my credit card number as loud as I could. At the third attempt I was back in business. I was insured for the next twelve months. I then headed straight to the offices of the individual with whom I had just spoken to collect the documents and place them not in the glove box but as the police recommend, one of the pouches on the back of the front seats. (Because they are apparently much less likely to be hunted down and stolen from there. Who knew?)
Below is a copy of a deeply praising letter I sent to our local Chief Constable to which the officer I dealt with answers. In other words, his boss. Certainly I could not have encountered a more professional, personable and common sense centric individual if I had requested one. It was a pleasure doing business with him. He did his job professionally to a tee and to my very considerable benefit. Should I have eventually had an accident blissfully unaware that my insurance had expired, I could have been faced with all kinds of litigation including injuring another driver and/or passengers thereof. It doesn’t bear thinking about. I cringe at the thought of the dire possibilities. In other words the officer did me a huge favour by pulling me over. Who would have thought?
* Ayup or Eyup means ‘watch out’. It is a greeting thought to be of Old Norse origin used in Yorkshire, UK from whence I hail and throughout the East Midlands, North Midlands and North Staffordshire parts of the UK.
Below is a copy of the letter I subsequently sent to the police officer’s boss the chief constable for the area. Needless to say it did not prompt a thank you or anything else by way of a response from the Chief Constable nor was I expecting one. In his shoes I would have sent one however that is one of an almost infinite number of reasons that I am not in his shoes. That of course is also one of many reasons why I am not in the police force period let alone in the roll of Chief Constable, which certainly must be very challenging indeed.
NB: Police department and geographical location withheld. I don’t want to wind up in the slammer for having the audacity to write and make public this true to the letter story. Should you run into a police officer who fits and confirms the limited description thereof offered above, please thank him profusely on my behalf. I already did of course while he wrote me the ticket.
Below is the text of the letter I sent to our local police chief the officer’s boss.
Attention: Chief Constable. (His name, like that of the officer involved and location of course all withheld.)
Dear Sir:
I write to commend in the strongest possible sense of the word, one of your police constables who attended me recently. To my complete and utter surprise he pulled me over on the afternoon of Friday November 10th. At the time I could not for the life of me figure out why. I was not speeding and because I scan the interior mirror frequently, I had become well aware that a police car was some distance behind in the traffic. No worries or so I thought! I obey all the traffic rules.
Subsequently on coming to the realization that the officer, then with all his lights flashing, had moved into a position closer behind my BMW Z4 than one would normally expect, I pulled over and put my four way flashers on. The constable brought his cruiser to a halt behind my car, approached and asked if I was aware that I was uninsured? Hell no I said. Indeed I was blissfully unaware. Knowingly driving uninsured is not on my radar under any circumstance whatsoever short of perhaps war just having been declared and even then. I pulled out my insurance documents always of course carried in the car. To no surprise albeit I was flummoxed, he was right. My insurance was out of date.
The constable I quickly discovered, represents the epitome and then some of policing at its very best. From his calm, friendly but neutral and serious approach, to his analysis of how best to proceed with a member of the public initially and genuinely flummoxed as to why he had been pulled over, he was professional policing personified at its very best. He checked all the professional excellence boxes and then some.
To this ‘relatively’ latter day, as I have done since riding motorbikes from when I was sixteen (it does seem so long ago*) I have relied on the usual annual mailed notice to tell me my auto insurance renewal is upcoming and hence due for payment. For reasons better known either to the post office or to my insurance provider, until the constable did his job, I was oblivious to the fact that the insurance on my Z4 had expired a few months ago. Had the date still been affixed to rear number plates, I would have been on the ball. Thank God he stopped me!
In the strongest of terms, please pass on to your personable constable my deepest thanks for detecting my oversight and for guiding me through acquiring insurance on the spot via my cell. Also for displaying his very considerable patience. The insurance person on the other end of my phone call had very limited and barely understandable English and the freeway noise of course did not do anything to help our communication. The deed finally done, I drove straight to the offices of the insurance seller and collected the paperwork which is now ensconced aboard the Z4. (In the passenger seat’s rear pouch as recommended to me eons ago by a policeman, not in the all too readily ‘accessible to the wrong hands’ glove box.) All’s well that ends well.
Yours sincerely, Barry Devonald.
Post Script: Barely needless to say and to no surprise, my letter above far from thanking me for praising the worthy constable to the hilt, did not prompt a response to me from his superiors. Pity. Hopefully they did respond to the constable with well earned praise.
* Yes I crashed one and some years later a scooter. Please peruse my stories at www.barrydevonald.com as both incidents I thought qualified for separate self contained short stories.