MY TRIP TO SWEDEN

A few decades back, I was priviledged to have been chosen for a special training session, held in Sweden. Made the flight from California to NYC and then on to Bonn, Germany. I flew 747's the entire way and, of course, I traveled "coach". "Coach" back then was much nicer than it is now. Had to leave my firearm at home, but I was allowed to take my switchblade, my sap gloves (black leather gloves with 6-oz (141.75 grams) of powdered lead over the knuckles) and my mace. No problem, as long as I had my badge and ID card. The world was very different then. Rented a BMW motorcycle and rode north to Denmark.

Now , I was just a good ol' country boy and didn't realize that the German autobahn police really frowned on people stopping along the edge of the highway to take pictures of the beautiful scenery.

I was merrily snapping pics when this Porsche pulled out of traffic, behind my bike. I didn't read German but I could tell by the markings that this had to be some sort of cop car. I watched in amazement as this huge German equivalent of the CHP got out of his car. He just kept unfolding himself from the vehicle until he reached his full height of about 6'-9" (205.74 cm). I was impressed. Towering over lil' ol' 5'-8" (172.72 cm) me, in his gorgeous white tunic and white helmet. His partner remained in the Porsche. They obviously did traffic stops differently here than in California. Luckily, he spoke english, and we had a nice chat about our jobs. He liked my seven point star badge and noted that I was wearing western boots. He asked if the Sheriffs still rode horses in the west. That was to be a common question during my trip. Probably because I always wore western style clothing, when off-duty, back then. He gave a very gentle admonishment about stopping on the autobahn and let me continue on.

Crossed into Denmark and took the ferry to Sweden.

When we were not in class, we were given tours of Stockholm. A few of the normal tourist sites but mostly cop related. At one point we met with the palace guard and they demonstrated their prowness with their sidearms at a gun range. Just like our training, they would "toe" the line and then draw and fire when the whistle was blown. They were some of the best shots I have ever met. One was visibly upset with his performance when he nicked the target's "X-Ring" rather than having all his shots within a half-inch (1.27 cm) of the center "X". Geez, all I ever cared about was getting all my shots in the "kill zone". Sadly, their firearm's technique would have killed most of them where I was from. Their holsters had a flap over the weapon and the weapon was connected to their uniform shirt by a lanyard. When the whistle was blown, they would draw their semi-automatic pistol, take very careful aim and click off the first round. The first shot was never quicker than two seconds after the whistle. On my streets, they would have been dead about 1.7 seconds. In our combat training, that first shot was usually within 0.2-0.3 seconds from the whistle and was always in the "kill zone". If you took longer than that, in my real world, you would most likely be dead. In our training you had seven seconds to fire six rounds, reload, and fire six more (12 total) and every shot had better be in that "kill zone" or you wouldn't qualify on the range for that month and could be suspended from duty until you did get a passing score.

The trip was educational and fun.

From some of the after hours drinking sessions, I determined that the Swedish word "skoal" must be a requiem for your liver.

While not my first visit to Europe, I had grown up as an "Air Force brat" all over the world, it was the first time there as a adult and I had a blast. Took a lot of pictures, which have vanished over the years, but the memories are still clear.

---

FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE
















"Let's all be careful out there!"

ENOUGH

IS ENOUGH

photo - Maui News

In the lower left is Ma'alaea Harbor. Upper right (along ridge line) is the new windfarm that was built this summer. (MAP)

This fire has been burning since Friday and is still not contained or controlled. In the 13 years I have lived on Mau'i, this is definately the worst.

What really irks me is that SR-30 (Honoapi'ilani Highway), is always being closed when something major happens. My complaint isn't about the closures but the fact that both the State of Hawai'i and the County of Mau'i have long acknowledged the problem but have never taken any steps to alleviate this bottleneck.

Every time there is a fire or a major traffic accident, the road is closed, sometimes up to 36 hours. There is no real alternative route. The highway that goes around the northside of Mau'i, through Kahakuloa, is a one lane road. Incapable of handling traffic. I have been on it and at points only had 6 inches of clearance from the cliff on one side and six inches of clearance from the drop-off into the ocean. In the best of conditions, it is a 3-4 hour trip to get to central Mau'i that way.

These closures happen a minimum of once a year, stranding residents and tourists on one side or the other, unable to return home or to their hotels. Unable to get to or from their place of employment.

Departing guests missing their flights and arriving guests having nowhere to go. This is very poor public relations.

How would you like to be in dire need of medical assistance but unable to get to the one, and only, hospital on the island. I'll give credit to the paramedics, but they are not doctors and obviously have limited equipment available to them. Can't do much with massive head wounds or substantial torso wounds. "Doctor says you're gonna die."

It is time now for the State and County to get off their lazy asses and do something positive and not just lip-service about having someone somewhere do a study of the problem. They have authorized countless studies before but have never followed up or even actually initiated most of them. Just flapping their lips in the wind. Looking for that 10-second "sound bite" for the evening news.

A government of the special people, by the special people, for the special people and the rest of us can just go to hell.

I am not feeling very special.



"Let's all be careful out there!"

FEELING BETTER

BUT TOO TIRED TO "TALK STORY"

More, later today.

---

As summer draws to a close, the mighty hunter, Orion, makes his appearance if the morning sky.

La Peruse, south Mau'i

A beautiful orchid

Lanikai, O'ahu.
The islands off "Robin's Nest" in Magnum, P.I.

Lahaina, Mau'i

Another orchid

Surfing Dolphins

Sugar Beach, Kihei

Kids On A Reef

"Chillin' Out"
On The Island Of Lana'i

Another Mau'i Sunset

"Let's all be careful out there!"

WHICH WAY DID HE GO?

WHICH WAY DID HE GO?

Still in the grip of the grippe. Basically, I have just been sleeping and expelling fluids. Lets just leave it at that.

Do your dreams get weird when you are ill? Mine do. These dreams usually are flashbacks to earlier points in my life, but the facts are skewed, and what is left of my rationale mind keeps nagging me about "things not being right"

Since I have no cab story for today, maybe you would enjoy a short tale from my prior life. If you enjoy it, I may scatter them in on a random basis in the future.

---

HIGH DESERT, HIGH SPEED

I wasn't always with the department I reference in my profile. For a short while, I worked as a cop in Nevada.

The middle of "fall" and the night of the highschool "homecoming" dance. I was OIC (Officer In Charge) since our sargeant was on vacation. Only two city cars on that night. Myself ("20-David") and "20-Charlie". The county had three deputies working. We shared a central dispatch center, at the Public Safety Builing, on the south-central part of town.

I was in radio room, having a cup of coffee and chatting with "Angie", the swing-shift operator. It had been a quiet night, with few calls, though we expected things to get busier when the dance finished.

"20-Charlie" was cruising past the gym, where the dance was in progress, and spotted a known drug dealer sitting in the drivers seat of a brand new Dodge Charger. He wasn't the owner. "20-Charlie" stopped and then approached the vehicle on foot. The suspect was oblivious to his presence. "20-Charlie" watched as the illicit entrepeneur was packaging pills and caplets of assorted colors into small paper bindles. The officer tapped on the driver's door window and told the dealer to get out of the car. The dealer saw the uniform and badge, started the barely street legal race car (440 cu. in. engine with 3 2-bbl carbs), and sped off into the night.

"Base, 20-Charlie. In pursuit of a black over yellow Dodge Charger, westbound on Main Street, approaching the city limits."

I was out of the radio room at a full run. Headed for my patrol car, parked in front of the Public Safety Building. We didn't have portable radios back then, so I was out of communication for about 45 seconds.

As soon as I was in the car I determined that they were still headed westbound on the US highway. "20-Charlie"'s vehicle, A Ford stationwagon, was no match for the Charger but he was keeping the suspect in sight. We were located in the high mountain desert of eastern Nevada and the next community west was almost 60 miles away. Just the paved US Highway and dirt roads leading off into the hinderlands. Just vast, open, mountainous, empty space.

I roared down Main Street, all the lights and siren advertising my emergency operation. I passed the casinos doing 100+ mph and as soon as I cleared the city limits I increased my speed to about 130 mph. I was driving the new sargeant's vehicle, a Dodge Polara Pursuit with a huge 440 cu. in. engine with a massive fuel sucking 4-bbl carb. Not quite equal to what the suspect had but way beyond what "20-Charlie" was driving.

"20-Charlie" advised that the Charger had eluded him by driving off onto one of the dirt roads. He had tried to follow but his car didn't have enough road clearance for the rutted roadway. I caught up to him at the intersection. I decided that I would continue in on that road, I had the clearance needed, and he would go back into town and come in on another, better, dirt road that connected with this one, about 10 miles north. Hopefully we could catch this asswipe in a squeeze play.

I had gently transgressed about 1/4 mile in when I crested a rise and, lo and behold, there was the Charger sitting at the bottom of the ravine. As soon as he spotted me, the chase was on. Since we weren't on a blacktop road, his top speed was not a factor. It came down to which of us was the better driver. Advantage to me. I had been trained for this shit. He hadn't.

We stayed on the dirt road for about 3 miles until it terminated at a graded "pole line" road that paralled the electric powerlines. He turned right, headed for where "20-Charlie" was headed to, and punched the accelerator, kicking up an impenatrable cloud of dust and pebbles. I deliberately lagged about 1/4 of a mile behind.

"Base, 20-David. turning east on 'Pole-Line' road. In excess of 100.""
"20-Charlie, 20-David. We are headed your way. Should be there in about 6 minutes."
"20-David, 20-Charlie, I am still 10 minutes away."
FUCK!!
"10-4. When we get to Box Canyon Road, he'll either turn left and go into the canyon or turn right and be headed right at you. Stay alert"

Pole-Line Road isn't quite straight. It tends to slalom around natural artifacts while staying close to the power poles. As I watch, a rainbow of pixelated colors starts glittering in my headlights, coming from the drivers window. He was dumping his stash!

As we approached the junction of Pole-Line and Box Canyon, he slowed a bit. Trying to make a decision on which way to turn. In the distance, to our right, could be seen the blue and red lights on two patrol cars headed towards us. By the light bar configuration, I could see that a county unit was about two miles away and "20-Charlie" was about a mile behind him.

His options narrowed to one choice, he turned left. Box Canyon Road was an improved, graded road surface. Not paved but was regularly sprayed with oil to lower dust levels. It led about twenty miles towards an old mining ghost town, where it ended in a classic western US box canyon. One way in. One way out.

He floored it. The portion of Box Canyon Road that we were on was nicked named "jackrabbit hills", because of the close set, repetative undulations of the terrain. Every time he crested a rise, he would go airborne, getting more heigth and distance with each topping.

He was now about three crests ahead of me and then he was gone. Couldn't see him anywhere. I quickly backed off and when I finally came over the top of the last knoll I had seen him on, there the Charger was. Upside down. Still sliding on its roof.

"Base, 20-David. Suspect has TC'd on Box Canyon. Three miles north of Pole-Line."
I hung up that mike and grabbed the one for the Sheriff's Office communications.
"20-David to County Unit on Box Canyon. BACK OFF!! BACK OFF!! Suspect has TC's. The roadway is blocked."
"15-Able, copy."

I could see the suspect was trapped in the vehicle, fuel was leaking from the filler tube and a small fire had started near the rear axle.

Grabbed the "city" mike.

"20-David. Suspect trapped in vehicle. Leaking fuel. Flames and smoke visible. Roll Fire and a Rescue Unit."

I jumped out and raced to him. He couldn't reach the release on his seatbelt and was suspended upside down. The flames were getting bigger and I reached down into my boottop, where I kept a razor sharp switchblade knife. One slash and the seatbelt fell away and he fell on his head.

I grabbed him by his hair and jacket collar and literally snatched him out of the drivers window. One clean movement. He was combative, still, but a quick armlock got him under control. I ran him headfirst into the fender of my car and, as he laid dazed by the events, put the cuffs on him and stuffed him into the caged backseat of my unit.

Just about then, the county unit came sliding over the hill. I opened the trunk and grabbed the fire extinquisher and brought the flames under control. Then "20-Charlie" rolled up, followed about 90 seconds later by the rescue unit, three firetrucks and about fifty volunteer firefighters.

Turned out that the firefighters were having their monthly training session at the station and had been monitoring the chase on the radio. They had started the engines and raised the bay doors before I had called for them. When they heard me call the "TC" they were rolling before I requested them.

Everything was under control. The suspect was being treated for his, minor, injuries.

I needed a cigarette. Badly.

Tried to light it but my hands were shaking so much that I had to get someone else to help me.

Spent the next six hours writing reports.

Oh, the dealer was sentenced to 5 years in prison, suspended, placed in County Jail for one year, paroled after 6 months and served 8 years probation. Well, he actually only served one year before he was violated on other charges.

The Charger wa "totaled". It had flipped, rolled and gone end-over-end. Impact damage on every part of the car.

Damage to my patrol car - tore a 4 inch by 4 inch piece of insulation off one of the mufflers.

---

TODAY'S PIX

FIRE & ICE
On the "Big Island"

Ma'alaea
From Sugar Beach

Looking at Lana'i
From Moloka'i

Moloka'i Sea Cliffs

Windward O'ahu

"Let's all be careful out there!"

AND SUMMER COMES TO AN END

UNLESS YOU LIVE IN THE LAND OF OZ

What ever was making me feel miserable yesterday fully manifested itself today. Spent a lot of time in the small room down the hall.

That is one of the drawbacks about being a cabbie. I pick up people having who knows what wrong with them and spend 5 to 30 minutes in the very close quarters of my vehicle. Breathing in whatever germs they are exhaling. Usually, my body's immune system wins, but not always.

---

NEW CAB BLOG

I have been diligently searching for cab blogs from all the major US cities. Tonight I finally found one from Las Vegas. Las Vegas Cabbie Chronicles is an excellent example of a cabbie in a city that truly never sleeps. It is now part of my links.

Still searching for some out of "El Lay", "Shy Town" and "Bean Town". They must exist. If you come across any cab blogs that I haven't listed, please drop me an e-mail so I can check them out.

---

VISITORS

An interesting article in yesterday's (2006-08-31) Mau'i News. Their statistics don't exactly "jive" with whats happening on the street but it is still good news. People in other service industry functions are always asking me how business is going. This isn't for small talk, it is really networking to see if abberations in their sector are just transitory or can a trend be detected. Every sector of the visitor industry has unique peaks and valleys that do not necessarily reflect the overall trend of business. Only when all segments experience the same ups and downs can a true reflection be garnered. What we do look for is two or more sections of the economy showing identical patterns. This can then be used to predict what is coming down the road in the near future. Statistics tell us what has happened. Networking tells us what is going to happen.

Can you believe that Mau'i has seen more than 1.5 million visitors during the first 7 months of 2006? Thats one hell of a lot of people. Our resident population is only about 150,000.

This autumn might be profitable. The Canadian Dollar is the strongest it has been in decades against the American Dollar. And we have seen a definate up-tick in business from that market. Can hardly wait to see the new flock of "snow-birds" this winter will bring.

---

PLEASE BE SAFE!

Today starts the long Labor (Labour) Day holiday weekend in Canada and the US. If you are going to drink, please have a designated driver or better yet, CALL A CAB! Thats why we are here. I always approach holidays with the concept that I am the only sober person on the road. Its called defensive driving. Always expect the unexpected.

---

PHOTOS COURTESY OF
Flickr: Photos from macprohawaii

What other state has a royal palace as its capitol?

"Let's all be careful out there!"