I'll admit that the vision usually comes to me while I'm in traffic and bearing witness to all the events that make us ask, "Where's a cop when you need one?"
I think Officer Imaginary's first visit would have to be paid to the cyclists who want to be treated as though they were operating a motor vehicle except at those times when it's inconvenient to do so. I'll state for the record that I have nothing against bicycles and own one myself, but if cyclists want to enjoy the same benefits (as the law allows) as those in cars, then they can damn well expect the detriments, too. I'll give them a full lane to turn left, just like they were in a car, but then they shouldn't expect special consideration at 4-way stops and red lights, as if they were a pedestrian. That's not how we play the game and would certainly earn a well-deserved ticket in my cop fantasy game.
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| There's a new sheriff in town! |
Next on my list would be the cigarette-but flicker or chewed gum wad tosser. I'm not sure why there are those among us who would never consider pitching an empty can or a wrapper out of a car window, but won't thick twice about it if it's the residue of their nicotine addiction. Guess what? When it comes to littering, size doesn't matter. Save the excuses for the judge because the cop I keep in my head doesn't want to hear them.
I'm not sure how long the arm of the law is in the land of make believe, but I'd hope long enough to snare those with fancy sports cars who feel the need to occupy four spots at the mall parking lot. You know the type, don't you? He's usually blown four times his annual salary on a ride once reserved for the rich and famous and another $10K on a custom paint job. I call these vehicles, "compensation cars", but that's another story. I'm perfectly aware of the rationale behind parking diagonally through a grid of four parking spaces; cars like this, after all, need to be preserved, free of dings and knocks from inconsiderate neighbours. Not my problem, nor is it that of my mirage cop. Ticket, please.
Last on the docket are truck drivers, presumably lost who pull their big rigs over on a two-lane city street to read a map, make a call, or wander about looking for directions, thereby creating a snarled mess of cars in their rearview mirror. I'll admit that the one time I witnessed a real live cop issuing a ticket for this misdeed, I actually honked and applauded loudly as I rolled on by. I'd like to believe that my fabricated flatfoot would work hard to eliminate this evil.
You may not find a cop when you need one, so feel free to dream as I do. It's very therapeutic.
