The Fremont police had to terminate a pursuit because their electric wonder car ran out of juice. Patrol car follies are alive and well. Technology meet cops. Here’s the story:
People who have never been cops will not understand. Cowboys and their horse were replaced with police and their rides. Take you average four door sedan, now add $8,000 to $15,000 to the cost. Congratulations, now you have a police car. At that price, fleet patrol cars don’t sit. The guy that drove it during the day gets to go home at the end of the shift, eight and skate. The only rest the patrol car gets is the twenty minutes it is parked at shift change.
Some patrol cars are assigned as take home cars. That means one driver. When the officer is off, so is the car. The theory is parked patrol cars in driveways and apartment complexes will serve as a deterrent. Secondly, the car will nor be running 24/7 cutting down wear and tear, lowering maintenance costs and extending the service life of the vehicle. Officers will be more inclined to keep an assigned vehicle clean. That only works if the officer assigned to the vehicle isn’t a total slob.
I never had a take home vehicle while on patrol. The patrol cars I drove were running 24/7. I got the same car day after day, just not exclusively. The rule was that the previous shift was supposed to top off the tank when the gauge indicated 1/2 full. What constituted half full depended on how one held one’s head and the squint. Was the gauge less that half if the left side of the needle had cleared the hash mark? Or did it only count if the right side of the needle was past the mark. Straight up and down, no harm no foul. “Hey, it was half full, right as I parked it. Must be the parking lot sloped.”
One female officer wouldn’t enter her patrol car until she had gone over most of the driver accessed surfaces with Lysol. The guy that preceded her was a notorious nose picker. His output was impressive for both number and size of individual boogers. On the steering wheel, under the seat, on the door panel, under the dashboard, on the seat between the seat and console, no place was safe. I have to digress here to give the reader an approximate understanding for what she faced.
The nose picker (NP) lived for handing out traffic tickets. A miscreant could tool thru town with bodies stacked like cord wood in the back of the car. Eight miles an hour over the speed limit and NP was there. The miscreant would get his ticket and then be on his way.
One day NP stopped a Mercedes Motoring Mama (MMM) about a block from the police station. NP made contact and began the process of issuing a citation. His business concluded NP strutted back to his patrol car.
MMM decided she didn’t have anyplace she needed to be and the police station was right there. She pulled in and asked for somebody in authority. She got the patrol Lieutenant.
MMM made clear that she was probably guilty of the traffic infraction and was not complaining about the ticket. She admitted that the officer was relatively polite. She only had one issue with the officer. As he was finishing the process of writing the ticket, he paused. He switched the ticket book to his left hand and proceeded to drive his right index finger into his nostril. The finger disappeared so deeply, she feared for his safety. The offending digit soon emerged with a booger dangling from the end. The officer paused and inspected his trophy, rotating his hand. He then gave it a flick. MMM was sure that the officer didn’t intend to flick the booger on her hood, but there it handed. It was still there if the Lieutenant cared to collect it for DNA testing.
The officer then handed the MMM his booger encrusted ticket book and pen and requested her signature on the citation. Being a mother and having a supply of baby wipes on hand she signed. MMM didn’t want to pursue the matter but felt that possibly NP could benefit from some instruction on manners.
The Lieutenant did indeed call NP in and established that the events occurred just as the MMM related them.
I got this story not from MMM or the Patrol Lieutenant. Nope, got it from NP. He was proud to point out how he had stood up for his rights. He concluded the story with his parting words to the Lieutenant, “It’s my nose and I’ll pick it if I want to!”
Another time honored police scam is to check out thirty minutes before the end of shift, in order to get gas. The refueling process continues until dispatch calls the outgoing shift in for shift change. Done correctly, all late calls that would have been assigned to officer out for fuel are assigned to somebody else.
At one police department where I worked. A DWI, blow job in progress lost control of his pick up truck. He plowed through the back lot of the police station and wrecked three of the five patrol cars in the fleet.
As a supervisor, I ended up driving an unmarked car. Our unmarked cars were cars that were worn out from patrol. They got a cheap paint job and were passed on to CID. I drove one plain unit and found that while it was ecstatically pleasing, it was a mechanical disaster area. The front end was so out of line it could make left turns by it self. The brakes were shot. It was so out of tune, lack of brakes didn’t matter. There was scented soap in the ash tray and it had been vacuumed. I wrote up a work order and parked it at the city shop.
The next night, I climbed in the car and discovered that (a) the work hadn’t been done or (b) the shop had exceeded all expectations for incompetency. I wrote it up again. This time, rather than leaving a work order on the dash, I chased down one of the mechanics.
According to the mechanic, the detective that drove that car, showed up, tore up the work order, and rescued “his”car.
It cost me a dozen donuts, but that car was on the lift with all four tires off of it before I went home and the detective came in for the day. The car got fixed and the detective sulked.
I decided that he had no reason to sulk, but I didn’t want him to waste a good sulk. I stopped at the 7-11 got a package of cheap cigars and drove around all night flicking ashes with great abandon. Now he had something to sulk about,
So, somebody forgot the plug the Tesla in. I would be willing to bet there is a really short list of culprits.
Funny thing about patrol cars, police administrators are really proud of them. They will brag about the paint job and the equipment. Throw a K-9 into the mix and there is no doubt. That vehicle belongs to the dog. The handler, what’s his face , just gets to drive it.
A number of years ago a Sheriff’s Office based in San Antonio, Texas, but otherwise unnamed, was offered a deal. BMW would provide a fleet of patrol cars. Maintenance would be performed by a third party at minimum cost to the county. The cars would be outfitted to county specifications. There was just one caveat, the cars were for patrol only, no cars for CID, Administrators or Supervisors. Yeah, you guessed it the deal went right into the shitter.
Technology may be an answer. But that doesn’t mean it is the answer in all cases. I’ve never been in a Tesla, but I’m guessing that somebody familiar with the car would be able to judge if it is capable of performing the mission. Starting an eight hour shift with a two hour charge is not a formula for success. A Crown Vic takes ten minutes to fuel up. Can’t do that with a Tesla.
There could be a whole new market out there. Tesla charging stations with a quick disconnect. Just install them where ever cops are known to roam. Coffee shops, convenience stores, any place that “pops” half price or better, bushes overlooking stop signs, overpasses, and long straightaways.
