Cruising Riverside has been a Spokane tradition since kids and cars first met, but don’t tell that to the current crop of cruisers — this is their own personal rebellion to having to grow up in Spokane.
Why cruise? “We’re bored as hell,” “There’s nothin’ else to do in Spokane” and “It’s pretty lame around here” are typical responses you get (jargon notwithstanding, probably the same answers you’d get in 1955).
When you really think about it, cruising seems to be the silliest thing imaginable. Hundreds of young people basically driving their cars around the block and staring at each other as they make their passes down Riverside. Some talk, some hoot and holler, some glower for effect and others let the boom of their subwoofers make their statements for them.
But upon further reflection, and after spending some time among the cruisers, you see it’s all part of that crazy thing called growing up.
“This is me, this is my car, these are my friends. Hey, I’m somebody!” is what the generally giddy ritual seems to say for the participants.
They jump from car to pick-up bed, they shoot each other (and sometimes journalists) with super-soakers, they smoke cigarettes with a studied manner and they sing along at the top of their lungs to the latest Sheryl Crow tune. In short, they act as though they’re away from home, independent and on their own for the first time.
But, analysis aside, really, says one cruiser, “It’s just fun.”
"You gotta be here — this is where it's at!"
Anytime you have so many young people gathered in one place, the potential for trouble is magnified. And with the kind of weaponry some kids have today, a little show of bravura can have tragic consequences. So it’s no surprise that patrolling the David sector (downtown) on a Friday or Saturday night is one of the more lively beats in the Spokane Police Department.
Cruising is not unique to Spokane. Most communities have some form of it, including downtown Coeur d’Alene, where police say they have no problems with the young people.
However, in places like Portland and Wenatchee, local police have decided to completely shut cruising down for safety and access reasons.
There’s plenty to keep Spokane police officers busy — traffic violations, kids on bicycles, gang members, drunken teenagers peeing against the side of buildings — but for the most part, police officers say, it’s just good kids having clean fun.
On a ride-along last Saturday, Officer Phil Lasswell pointed out that the majority of problems are caused by gangs and the “good kids who get a little carried away.”
Just a year ago, Lasswell says, things could get pretty bad on Riverside Avenue. There were some shootings and a girl was stabbed in the U.S. Bank parking lot, a key turn-around for cruisers and a reputed hangout for gangs.
Lasswell describes a night when he saw a smoking white pickup with two teenage boys peeling out of the lot, with a low-rider sneaking out behind them. Officers figured the second car had shot at the first, and when the truck returned, they saw it had six bullet holes in it — one hit the door handle, only inches from where it could have gone through to hit the driver.
“They were a couple of guys from Colville who thought they were tough,” says Lasswell.
The episode has apparently passed into Riverside lore as one of a truckload of guys reported, as if to strike fear, that “people get shot down here.”
Things have been much quieter, however, since the police began chaining off that lot and barricading eastbound Riverside at Stevens to keep cars from turning right into another popular parking lot.
“I’m real proud of our last 10 months because it’s been slow,” says Lasswell. “There’ve been a lot of people, but they’ve been pretty well behaved.”
This is certainly the case this Saturday, as cars from convertibles to a minivan inch down Riverside, stereos blasting. The cruisers are a pretty calm bunch, but there’s still more than enough to keep three patrol cars busy.
"We're bored as hell. Write to City Hall and tell them we've got to have something to do!"
10:30 pm: Two guys riding bikes on the sidewalk are told to go home. Bikes aren’t allowed to ride on the sidewalk downtown and they can’t ride on the street at night without lights. Later, we see the same two, but they’re not riding their bikes.
11 pm: We come up behind a car stopped in a “No Stopping or Standing Zone,” lights flashing. It turns out Mom was dropping off the kids to catch a bus. After a quick check for warrants, she gets let off with a warning.
“I like to keep the lights flashing when I stop someone,” says Lasswell. “It keeps us visible and keeps trouble away.”
11:10 pm: An 18-year-old oy cruises by us with his left turn signal on. “No left turn,” Lasswell shouts out the window. But this kid turns left in his Isuzu Impulse anyway. We make a quick U-turn and nail the sucker. (It’s hard not to get into this police business.)
“There’s a lighted sign and an unlit sign,” Lasswell says.
The kid’s answer is that he’s lived in Spokane all his life and never seen that sign before.
“If you’re going to be that numb,” says Lasswell, “you’re going to get a ticket.”
Numbness seems a byproduct of the interaction of kids and alcohol. Lasswell recalls drunken teenage boys urinating against the side of buildings right in front of him on two separate occasions.
Tonight, other than a security guard reporting two boys drinking and driving, things are pretty quiet as far as underage drinking goes. Not too many gang members, whom the police know by sight, have made the journey downtown either.
At one point we back up two reserve officers who have pulled over a car of who they believe are Hispanic gang members — the only ones cruising this weekend. The driver doesn’t have a license and can barely speak English.
11:40 pm: As a scraggly-looking kid riding a bike with a blank look on his face tells us “we scarcd the pee out of him’’ when we blew our air horn behind him. The kid, clearly missing a few brain cells, tells Lasswell he may have a warrant out for him for shoplifting. He doesn’t and Lasswell tells him to go home.
Cruisers warily eye the patrol car as they pass us with some unfortunate soul pulled over. Most are trained to turn down the stereo when they pull up beside the police. Every once in a while Lasswell has to yell at someone who’s holding up traffic by talking to someone in an oncoming car. Most obey dutifully. Some glare at the officer as they move along.
Overall, the officers are an easygoing lot. They talk to a lot of cruisers, remain visible, but hand out few tickets. Those with a good attitude get warnings. The jerks get to shell out the bucks for their immaturity.
And the officers have the cruisers trained well. Cruising shuts down promptly at 1 am, when one patrol car blocks westbound traffic on Stevens and two others force traffic to turn right from both directions at Howard. They all turn and leave.
Within five minutes, all the cruisers are gone. No one comes back. At least, not until next week, when — whether in mom’s Volvo or in the convertible Mustang financed by hours behind the fast food counter — the ritual continues. ♦
