More stories pour moi..
Interesting story, I was asked (86-87) if I had a pilot's licence driving back from a Rye gig once. They saw my gear in the back of the Kingswood. "The Senior Sergeant would like to hear some 12 bar"... so I got the bass out, rested the body against the fender (the panel, not the amp) and rattled off Blue Suede Shoes.
No breathalyser, they were satisfied that I was in control, let me off. "just take it a bit easier driving the rest of the way to Rosebud, Mr Treloar". The Senior Sergeant played saxophone and was apparently suitably impressed.
Next: driving back from the Royal gig Wed or Thurs in M'ton, got pulled over speeding near the Briars. Blew over, the lady copper wanted me to accompany them back to the station for a proper blood test but I protested saying I didn't want to risk leaving my gear in the car on the side of the road in the dead of night.
She took my keys, said "sit right there, I'll be back" and got back into the divvy van and made some calls. A couple of minutes later she opened the driver's door and said "move over" and drove me home to McCrae. On the way I asked what I blew. She said she wasn't supposed to tell me but because I was only 0.06 they figured that by the time they got back to the station and cranked up the machine there was a fair chance I'd be under and it wasn't worth the trouble. They stuck a canary on my car and I paid the speeding fine
When the time came to present my car at Dromana cop shop for inspection after I'd fixed it, Sgt Alvin Aitkens (or something like that) said ok. I said aren't you going to look at it, he said no, you wouldn't be here unless you fixed it. The same guy rocked up one day to serve a summons for a bloke that used to live in the flat I was renting. He looked down at the dope plant growing in a pot on my porch. "What's that?" he asked. "A tomato?" I replied. "Can you get rid of it?"
"Eventually..." I replied. He leant down, pulled it out, and without saying a word, walked away.
Alvin picked me up hitch-hiking years later in Red Hill South in the pissing rain. I said "What is it with you Alvin? You're a good bloke. I've never been given a lift by a policeman before. You're different.. How come?"
Alvin replied, "I joined the Force because I wanted to serve the community". I got the feeling he wasn't at all on some sort of power trip, didn't want to chase after criminals or shoot them, just wanted to be a well-oiled cog in society.
Yet another story: driving back from a gig in Portsea, was looking for a bottleshop in Rosebud but it was after hours. Got pulled over outside Woolies, he took one look at my licence, asked what my sister's name was, said he knew her, took my car and said "walk home, come and pick it up at the Boneo station tomorrow when you're sober". When I got there it had a tag on the keys "yellow shit box Ford". But no canary! Good coppers!
The moral of the story? I think most trained Police can spot a criminal in an instant. If you aren't one, unless you are being really rude or they're not a nice person, they will treat you with respect. Sure, I've had some brush ups with coppers that weren't exactly sterling silver but generally they're a great boon to society. Except the crooked ones.
