Oregon Cop

7/1/94
The oregon coast had been stunningly beautiful all day, though very cold and windy in most places. The sun was out but I had stopped earlier for some thermals to go with my other five layers. It had been a long day coming up from south of Eureka over three hundred miles. Almost at my destination I had stopped in Newport, a small coastal town to fuel up and to call ahead for specific instructions on the last little bit of my journey to Gary's place. Leaving Newport, Gary said it should be about 1/2 hour to get to the house, but I knew it was only about 18 miles and I could be there in 20 minutes or less, so I hit the road and was cruising at 70 mph when I saw a cop in the distance coming from the opposite direction. I let off the gas and was slowing down, he was just in front of me, and as we passed each other I was doing about 55 and then maintained that speed. I continued to watch him in my rear view mirror and saw that he was turning around very quickly and putting on his flashing lights. I said "shit!" to myself and pulled over right away, getting off the bike and undoing my helmet quickly. He stopped, came walking up and I asked, "What's the problem officer?" He said, "I'm concerned about yer speed there, son." I said I thought 55 was the speed limit. He said he had me clocked on his radar at 65. I said my speedometer said 55. I had my license ready, he asked to see it and I handed it to him. He was a big man with a chubby face and glasses.
"Can I see your registration."
"I don't have it with me."
"Does this vehicle belong to you?"
"Yes."
"Do you have proof of financial liability?"
"I'm not required to show that to you."

a pause and a look of incredulousness.

"What?"
"I'm not required by law to show proof of financial liability."
Obvious impatience and raising his voice
"Oh yes you are! If your not going to show any proof then I would assume you don't have any. Do you have insurance?" He cocks his head slightly and is glaring at me.

"I don't have to answer that question."
"You are required to carry proof of financial responsibility at all times!", he yells.
"The law says you can't make me show it. When they passed the law in California that insurance was required it was very controversial. And then a few years later they passed a law that officers were not allowed to make people show proof of insurance."
"I don't know what your talking about, the law says that all drivers are required to carry proof of insurance at all times."
Confused and nervous all I could blurt out was, "Well, something's not right."

We argued about the law and who knew what.

With an annoyed, angry look on his face he walks back to his patrol car with my license, and sits for several minutes. I'm standing on the side of the highway, facing the oncoming traffic and staring into the space of green growth to my left side, feeling frustrated and trying to estimate how much this is going to cost me. Shaking in my boots, both at the cold and at the nervous feeling I get when in the presence of a cop, and wondering if I'm needlessly exacerbating the situation. My bank account is almost empty, how am I going to afford this? How can I stick up for my rights in the least confrontational way? Now I'm going to be late, after traveling all day, five miles from the house I get pulled over.
He comes walking back from his car with a white book in his hand. He shows me the cover: AAA Motoring Laws 1994 in bright gold letters, and shows me and reads to me a passage that all drivers must carry proof of financial responsibility at all times. In the event of property damage or an accident, failure to produce such proof to an officer of the law is considered a violation.....blah, blah, blah.
His hand dropped to his side, and he said, "See there! You got to have proof! I'm not making this up!"
My brain clicked and I said, "Read that again! Look at that passage! See what it says there!? If there is property damage or an accident, THEN I'm required to show proof, otherwise I'm not breaking the law!" We argued some more.
He looked at me intently and yelled, "You gotta have it!"
He walked back to his car and sat for an even longer time. Talking on his radio and what not. I was trying to think of what he would be charging me with, and if he might not arrest me. I was feeling pretty dejected, as it seemed he was right, I read that I have to have insurance at all times. The subtle distinction between having it on me and showing it to him or answering to him whether or not I had it, hadn't occured to me. I didn't realize to point out that I was aware I was required to have it, but that I was not required to show it to him unless something happened. I was stuck on the point that he could not ask me to produce proof. I was going to stick with what I thought from California, whatever happened. I stood next to my bike, looking into the green roadside, as the wind from cars passing blew through my hair. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Tall green grass by the side of the road, sand dunes, the ocean near by, and a cop in his patrol car deciding my fate over his radio and what he had for lunch.
Finally he got out of his car and walked towards me. I was getting ready to hear the charges or sign the ticket. I stood up straight and prepared myself to talk to him. He came up quickly with a hard look in his eyes. He said, "You know what? I'm going to let you go. But I'm giving you a stern warning that you have to have proof of insurance at all times. And you better drop that attitude of yours. We try to be nice to out of state guests and I realize that everybody has bad days but when you come in with an attitude like that it's not fair to me and I don't appreciate it. And I'll tell you something, you're not going to find a nicer officer this side of the border. Now you slow that bike down, and think about getting your speedometer calibrated." I had tried a few times to interject that I appreciated what he was saying and that I didn't mean to have a bad attitude, but he was talking right over me. So when he finished, I apologized and told him that I appreciated what he was doing. He stuck out his hand and said, "Chris, you have a nice day, and be safe on that bike."
He walked back to his car. I put my helmet on and started the bike. He turned around and took off in the opposite direction. I got on the highway and started laughing within my helmet, such was the sense of relief I felt. By the time I arrived at Gary's I was still feeling the adrenaline rush and it took about 30 minutes to stop shaking and quivering at the nervousness. I drove 55 the rest of the way.


Chris Seidel