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Jame St N.
Or, why Hamilton could never get it right even if they tried.
OK. So, preface to this story, I was riding down James St. earlier today when crossing Main, someone in a Pontiac Grand Prix yelled at me to get off the road and ride on the sidewalk. Usually one to turn the other cheek, I'd just had enough of it lately, so I threw it right back at him and caught up at the next intersection and proceeded to inform him of the rules of the road pertaining to bikes. Bear in mind, throughout this whole exchange, I had done nothing illegal whatsoever. The people in this car actually argued with me that bikes were supposed to ride on the sidewalk, weren't allowed to be on the road, and that I, a 27 year old man, was breaking the law by not wearinig a helmet. Anyway, that just sets the stage for events to come.
Later, a friend and I were riding south down James when a vehicle moved into the oncoming lane to pass us. It was a police van. We were riding in the extreme right portion of the right lane, and had no reason to believe we were in contravention of the law, but it appeared that the police wanted to stop us. We pulled over, and I set my bike down and stood aside; the officer without any apparent need, picked my bike up and threw it violently while I stood, motionless, watching. I was pressed against the wall of Hamilton City Centre, handcuffed, and pushed down onto the sidewalk. I sat down on the sidewalk, passively, almost not believing what was happening to me.
I was riding a bicycle on the side of the road. I was not on drugs. I was not driving drunk. I was not in posession of illicit substances or weapons. Yet somehow, the best that Hamilton's finest could come up with at 2:30 am on a friday night was me, a 27 year old mechanical engineer earning $43,000 a year paying full taxes, spending my paycheque downtown at legitimate establishments, riding a bicycle, doing no harm to anybody.
I was presented with two tickets, one for riding a bike without a horn, and one for intoxication in a public place.
My bike had a bell on it, and I was not intoxicated. Furthermore, no claim was made to that effect, and no sobriety test was administered.
The ticket read "Jame St. N, at Wilson."
I will argue in court, that there is no street in Hamilton named 'Jame'.
My friend asked them why there was no ride program outside of hess village (where we witness, weekly, obviously intoxicated teenagers getting into vehicles and driving away.)
Hamilton, I give up on you. Good night.
Last edited by Jon Dalton; Jun 20, 2009 at 8:35 AM.
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