Friday, October 2, 2009


I recently finished a class for work. It was the Instructor Development Course. To graduate I had to pick a subject, write a tutorial and actually teach the class. I chose Police Bicycle Patrol.

But what angle to use? I pondered and pondered. Then it hit me. My nickname.

See, as some of you know, I'm a recovering meathead. A powerlifter. A guy who specializes in picking up and putting down heavy things. Never world class, I can say with all due modesty that I was pretty good at it. At my largest I was about 270 pounds (239ish at the moment). A badly blown Achilles tendon, a second shoulder surgery, a motorcycle crash wrecked hip and a host of chronic aches and pains convinced me that at 50, it was time to find another athletic outlet (hence my move into pedal powered transport). All this to tell you that my nickname was/still is, I swear, Bubba. 

So, Bubba the Bike Cop was born.

What's Wrong with this picture?

The class was on how to start a bicycle patrol, starting with uniform and equipment. I led the class on what a bike cop needs to do the job. I presented Bubba as What Not To Do and as a starting point for our theoretical bicycle patrolman. Yes, that is yours truly. I'm still carrying too much on top and, yeah, that's what happens to ones legs when one catastrophically rips an Achilles tendon. I'm working on it. Really.

Much to my surprise and delight, the class was a hit. They really got into equipping Bubba and pointing out what a goober he was. Really, really got into it. I'm still trying to live it down. I passed the class and actually got a good score on my presentation so I guess the humiliation was worth it. I got an A and I exposed others (some of whom are or will be chief officers) to the real benefits of the bike. Another win for bicycling!

But it is clear to me now that I will be Bubba among my circle of peers for the rest of my career and probably my life.

Eh, I can live with that.