HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2004-09-23, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2004. PAGE 5.
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Smile, you're on candid radar
Ah. the joys of the open road. Is there
anything that can beat tooling down
the open highway on an autumn
afternoon, with a Van Morrison disc in the
CD player, the birds a-twittering, the
wind running through- what's left -of your
hair...
The scenery unspools majestically to port
and starboard, gracious firs and cedars whip
by...a flash of lake...a half-dozen or so scruffy
highway maintenance workers leaning on
shovels and rakes, one of them pointing a radar
gun...
A radar gun????
That's right, sucker. Those maintenance
workers are coppers in disguise and you are
about to be busted. -
This new breed of undercover flatfoot may
not appear as a highway maintenance crew.
Sometimes they pretend to be golfers,
searching for lost balls.
The purpose is the same: to disarm -and
deceive the speeding motorist and nail him
good. If you've got,a heavy foot when you pass
these guys, rest assured that around the next
corner or just over the next hill, a uniformed
police officer will be waiting to flag you down,
tell you off and write you up.
Is this cricket? •
Hey, if you break the law by .speeding,
you've got no grounds for complaint when
you're nabbed. .
There's nothing .illegal about cops using
camouflage to catch speeders.
• But it is undeniably sneaky.
Used to be that cops. at least gave you a
sporting chance. I remember the early days of
photo radar vans in Ontario, when radio
stations would broadcast some of the radar
Agravy train that has helped maintain
many retired Ontario premiers in their
comfy Florida condos is no longer
providing an easy ride and some must feel
wary of stepping on board.
The ex-premiers have long accepted well-
paying posts as directors of wealthy
corporations to keep their heads above the
poverty line, but the former Progressive
Conservative premier, William Davis, is the
latest to show it is not all benefits.
Davis has resigned from the boards of two
companies dominated by auto parts
manufacturer Frank Stronach, citing personal
and health reasons, while they explained he
wants "less corporate involvement."
But anyone who knows Davis has been
waiting for this other shoe to drop since
Frank's daughter Belinda, who had never been
elected to any public office, announced he
supported her for leader of the federal
Conservative party.
• Stronach was awkward and wooden and
could not answer key questions including
whether she would have sent Canadian troops
to Iraq, explaining she did not want to
comment on what she would have done.
She is not the same shade of Tory as Davis
— more to the right, while Davis is to the left.
She could not speak French, while Davis's
inability to speak French was among reasons
he would not run.for federal leader when he
was under huge pressure in the 1980s.
Davis also believed politicians should work
their way up and almost never gave a cabinet
post to anyone who had not served an
apprenticeship on his back benches.
An exception was when he appointed his
friend from university days, Roy McMurtry as
attorney general. But McMurtry. had been a
locations during the morning rush hour.
A self-defeating move? Hell, no. The
broadcast warnings caused thousands of radio-
listening drivers to slow down.when they got
near the radar location. The fuzz may have
handed out fewer tickets, but they reined in the
overall traffic flow.
Police try all kinds of schemes to outwit
speeders. Have you notice the proliferation of
cameras at stoplights and intersections?
That'll slow a speeder down, even it there's no
film in the camera.
In Maine, they used to park empty police
cars on highway medians, but speeders aren't
dummies. They cottoned on to the trooperless
cruiser gambit pretty quick.
Of course, even when a policeman hauls a
speeding car over, he's still got a major hurdle
to clear. He's got to outfox the smartass at the
wheel.
And some of us can be fairly wily. I know a
guy' who kept a mummified bumblebee
in the car ash tray. When a cop pulled him
over for speeding, he'd put the bee on
the dashboard, wait for the cop to come
to his window and explain that he was
driving fast because he'd been trying to
swat this bee that had been flying around his
head.
Worked like a charm until one officer took a
noted trial lawyer and turned out a dominating
attorney general and, more recently, an activist
and progressive chief justice of Ontario.
Davis would never have freely endorsed a
Belinda Stronach for leader, but must have felt
he had no choice, because her family's
companies paid him highly.
Davis was not seen lobbying for Stronach in
- her optimistic, losing venture, as was Mike
Harris, another former Tory premier who also
was on a Stronach board, closer to her
philosophically -and probably needed the
money more.
But Davis must have been embarrassed and
concluded he could no longer be in a position
.• where he had to give support, even lukewarm,
to a candidate because her family paid him.
David Peterson, the former Liberal premier,
has had more than his share of problems over
directorships and last year was criticized by an
Ontario Securities Commission disciplinary
panel.
Peterson had become a director of a high-
tech company, YBM Magnex International
Inc:, incorporated in Canada but with
headquarters in the United States, which
police there suspected was linked to organized
crime.
The company raised $50 million through a
stock issue and then collapsed and its shares
closer look at the insect.
"Sir, your bee has dust on its wings," he said.
But the cops don't always win. I'm reminded
of the guy who pulled over my pal Ernie one
afternoon. The conversation, according to
Ernie, went something like this:
OFFICER: Licence and registration, please.
ERNIE: I don't have a licence. It was
revoked after my third DWI.
OFFICER: May I see the registration?
ERNIE: It's not my car. I stole it.
OFFICER: This is a stolen car?
ERNIE: That's right, but I think the
registration is in the glove compartment. I saw
it when I was putting my .38 in there.
OFFICER:, There's a gun in the glove
compartment?
ERNIE: Yes sir. I put it there after I shot the
car owner and stuffed his body in the trunk.
OFFICER: There's a BODY in the TRUNK?
ERNIE: Right on.
At this point the officer backs away from the
car with his gun drawn and radios for backup.
Three squad cars come screaming up and box
in the car. The supervising sergeant approaches
the driver's window and asks, once again for
Ernie's driver's licence. Ernie hands it to him.
Ditto for the registration. The car is in Ernie's
name.
The sergeant orders Ernie to slowly, with his
left hand, open the glove compartment. There's
no gun in it. He tells Ernie to pop the trunk.
No body. •
The sergeant sayS, "I don't get it. The officer
who stopped you said you told him you were
unlicensed, stole the car, had a gunin the glove
box and a body in the trunk."
Ernie says, "Yeah, and I'll bet the liar told
you I was speeding too!"
became worthless, and the OSC claifned
Peterson- was Aware of the police suspicion
beforehand, but failed to make it public.
Peterson countered he tried aggressively to
find if the company had organized crime ties
and was told this was only an unconfirmed
rumour that did not need to be made public,
but the panel concluded he should have offered
more insight,and leadership.
Peterson 'haired a high-tech company,
Microforum Inc., but resigned after a
departing chief financial officer accused its
then chief executive and largest shareholder of
mismanagement and it was revealed he had
been convicted of fraud.
Peterson also chaired the board of giant
book-retailer Chapters Inc. when publishers
complained it used high pressure tactics to
force them to cut their prices, small
booksellers complained it sold at cutthroat
prices and forced them out of business and
writers complained it had too much power, and
the federal Competition Bureau said it had
concerns, which damaged his party, which
claims it helps small business.
The OSC also is trying to draw up guidelines
on qualifications people should have to serve
on company boards, so the future may not be
as bright for former premiers who want to cash
in.
Final Thought
History' is a guide to navigation in perilous
times. History is who we are and why we
are the way we are.
- David C. McCullough
Bonnie
Gropp
The short 91 it
The surreal years
A funny thing's happening that I just
haven't been able to help noticing of
late. For some strange reason all my
friends seem to be growing up.
This past weekend I attended a 50th birthday
party. The guest of honour, whom I must point
out is older than me, I became acquainted with
when I met my husband. He and his wife are
wonderful people, part of a circle of friends,
whose company we don't just enjoy, but
depend on. Our times together have always
been ones of much laughter. There is history
and the strong tie of familiarity that'comes only
with knowing someone a long, long time.
That it has come to be a long, long time is
rather surreal. I was still a teenager when my
parents hit their 50s. I was sure they should
have been more depressed than they seemed.
After all, for someone who's most serious
problem was acne, let's face it, to imagine
being 50 was, well, unimaginable.
Next, I watched my sister, her husband, my
brother, his wife and a good number of my
husband's family hit the milestone.
Interestingly, with me now a mature young
woman, 50, though still hard to imagine, no
longer seemed to represent the rocking chair.
By the time my husband had marked his fifth
decade, though I still had years to go to get
there, it was difficult to avoid the reality.
Middle-age loomed, and hard as it may be for
me to believe, God willing we're going to
reach it. Now the question is, how do we
handle it. Do we roll over and resign ourselves
to our impending golden age?
I think not. Fifty, I have decided is onb, old
until you get there. Now, in retrospect, I realize
how young my parents were at 50. While I
often saw them as care-worn, burdened by
responsibility, and of course, very uncoOl, they
were actually quite a lively pair in mid-age.
They worked hard, partied with the best,
danced all Saturday night and still made it to
church on Sunday. It was only to the naive eyes
of a self-absorbed adolescent that they were
ancient.
There are many jokes made about turning 50.
Our friend suffered most of them this past
weekend. And we can't argue some of the
fodder for the jokes. We do need longer arms to
hold oUr book when we read. No matter how
much we exercise, things just aren't where they
used to be. We can wake up with a hangover
even though we weren't out the night before.
If ever there was a time in life to prove the
adage you're only as old as you feel it's 50.
Personally, as it looms over me, I admit to
feeling somewhat intimidated. After all, while
getting older certainly beats the alternative, it
also means the alternative is getting closer.
But, as I watched my friend this past
weekend, I was reminded that it's all in what
we make it. This generation has opportunities
to enjoy life, that those before did not. We are
wiser about our he'alth, and came of age in a
time of great change when status quo was not
always the accepted norm.
Mid-age when you think about it, is not in
your head. It's my body that complains. In my
mind I'm still 16, without, I might add, .all the
insecurities and turmoil. When I hear a Beatles
tune I'm still just a girl. I like to go on dates
with my steady guy and enjoy some gossip
time with the girls.
Saturday, the celebrant's wife brought out a
scrapbook of pictures compiled from an annual
trip our group made. It marked our passage
through the years. Middles got wider, hair got
thinner. But the laughs and the fun have never
lessened.
Wary of stepping aboard the gravy train