On the Bike Beat : West Hollywood: The Sheriff Department’s new patrol unit is quietly, : but quickly, pedaling its way onto the crime-fighting scene.

By the time the deputies rounded the corner on their mountain bikes and smelled the pungent aroma, the three middle-aged pot smokers didn’t have a chance.

They were caught, red-handed, and they had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run, either, since the deputies would easily overtake them on their standard-issue bicycles--even if they ran onto the sidewalk or down alleys. The smokers just stood there, stunned.

The robbery suspect outside the McDonald’s had no chance either. The bike patrol caught up with him as he lingered for a moment, still illuminated by the glow of the golden arches. They sat him down, cuffed him and went riding off, looking for his partner in crime.

There were other members of the seamy underside of West Hollywood taken by surprise that night--drug addicts, prostitutes, and run-of-the-mill lowlifes.

Most people, though, saw the two-member patrol whiz by and registered a look of shock and amusement.

It was all in a night’s work for the two sheriff’s deputies, members of a specialized team at the vanguard of what its supporters say is the way of the future--cops on bikes.

Already, the idea has caught on in many communities, starting in 1987 in Seattle, where bike patrols have an arrest record far more impressive than their car-riding counterparts, according to Seattle Police Officer Paul Grady, who trained the first members of West Hollywood’s new crime-fighting team.

The West Hollywood unit, composed of six deputies riding in teams of two, was among the first of its kind in California when it started about a month ago. At least eight more deputies will be added to the team shortly, and Sheriff’s Deputy Sean Collinsworth, who brought the idea to West Hollywood, is now training bike patrol officers in three divisions of the Los Angeles Police Department. Collinsworth says other departments are not far behind.

On a recent night, Collinsworth and his partner, Deputy Craig Flick, accompanied by a Times reporter and photographer, slithered through traffic and weaved around startled pedestrians on sidewalks. They cruised through the nooks and crannies and alleys and garages of the city, through all the hidden places where crooks head to escape the watchful eye of police.

Most police, that is. But not the bike patrol.

Even though the two deputies were outfitted with all the standard equipment--9-millimeter Beretta pistols, badges, radio transmitters, handcuffs, large Sheriff’s Department insignias on their shirts and even larger billy clubs--they roamed the streets as if they were invisible.

“It doesn’t even register that we’re cops,” said Collinsworth, after he cruised up to a transient sitting on a Santa Monica Boulevard ledge and took his beer away from him. “If we were in a black-and-white (squad car), he’d have dumped it. The same thing with the dope (smokers).”

Time and again, by the time the deputies announced, “Sheriff’s Department Bike Patrol,” they were close enough to their quarry to see what kind of cigarette they were smoking, close enough to catch them at whatever suspicious act they were committing, or close enough--if they were law-abiding--to chat with them about life in their neighborhoods.

West Hollywood covers 1.9 square miles, so all of it can be seen from a bike, and a lot more than would be seen from a squad car or by police officers on foot. And probably a lot more than most people want to see--unless you’re a cop.

Collinsworth and Flick say they have caught many criminals in the act, from prostitutes performing in parking structures to hit-and-run drivers. Their bikes have spotlights and fat tires that enable them to climb stairs, go up curbs and buzz through all kinds of terrain.

The bikes do more than afford deputies the element of surprise. They are able to respond to calls as fast as squad cars in many instances--faster during rush hours.

Responding to the radio call about the elderly man being robbed outside the McDonald’s, the deputies raced a half-mile to the restaurant at the corner of Detroit Street and Santa Monica. They got there in time to nab the suspect before most officers could get out of their squad cars.

And while the other officers milled about on foot, Collinsworth and Flick scoured the area, in vain, for a second suspect.

Some deputies, though, say they’d rather keep their squad cars.

“I like driving people around and taking (suspects) to jail,” instead of calling in for backup units like bike patrol deputies have to do, Deputy Joe Morales said during a stop at Astro Burgers.

“Besides,” he said, pointing to Collinsworth and Flick, “they’re in much better shape than I am.”

The bike cops take a lot of good-natured ribbing about their patrols, and their bulky bike helmets, khaki shorts and special bike shoes. And because they had to pass rigorous medical tests, jokes abound about them having to cut out the coffee and doughnuts and having to keep a ready supply of sun block.

“But the jokes and jeers have stopped,” said Flick, as they brought the robbery suspect to squad cars waiting at McDonald’s.

“We’re bringing in arrests and citations. We’re handling our weight, doing everything they do in (squad) cars.”

Collinsworth, who at 34 has 12 years on the force, obviously enjoyed the good-natured banter with those we met on the street the most, even the most unsavory ones. Throughout his 3-to-11 p.m. shift, he’d ride up to questionable people, ask what they were doing, search them for drugs, check for IDs and track marks, and tell them to get busy or get lost.

Flick, 24, and three years on the force, was more introverted and soft-spoken. Unlike Collinsworth, who has ridden bicycles the 12 miles to and from work for years, Flick is still adapting to life on two wheels. He says the last month’s worth of riding has gotten him in better physical condition.

“You been using, Philip?” Collinsworth asks a sullen, shaky adolescent standing in a parking lot along Santa Monica Boulevard frequented by male prostitutes. “Where you been?”

After receiving a noncommittal response, Collinsworth hops off his bike, pats Philip down, inspects his veins, and says: “You’ve got 15 minutes to find a boyfriend, Philip. I don’t want to see you here when we come back.”

On the next trip by the parking lot, Philip is nowhere in sight.

Seeing “Dave” hanging out with two other men in another parking lot, Collinsworth is next to the pasty-faced young man before he can finish his sentence. He pats all three down for drugs, asks Dave when he got out of jail and warns the other two that Dave sells drugs. He gives them a “pep talk,” saying, “If you’re even in the area again, I’ll find a reason to bust you.”

Usually, such warnings work. Because of their constant presence, the bike patrols deter crime by scaring away the hustlers, Collinsworth and Flick say. The three pot-smokers, after getting a scolding from Collinsworth, even say they think the bike patrols are a great idea.

“They’re quiet, and fast. As we learned tonight,” said one of the men, who was standing near the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard, the major artery that the bike detail patrols.

The patrols also make for good public relations. As the deputies ride past Sherry Scott, walking her dog with her mother, Scott initiates a conversation.

Curious at first, they say the idea of bike patrols makes them feel safe. “I love it,” Scott says. “They’re more in shape and ready to go (than other officers). And they’re friendlier.”

Sam Vincent, sitting on the front porch of his Poinsettia Place home, tells the officers of drug-dealing prostitutes living down the street, and how much he likes the patrols. “I’m really jazzed to see you guys patrolling,” he says. “Every time I see you, I go, ‘Hurrah.’ ”

It is too early to glean hard statistics on the success of the West Hollywood program, Collinsworth and Flick said. But they said arrests are up, crime is down, and people say they feel safer than ever before.

“We see more, hear more, smell more,” Collinsworth says. “We are closer to our environment.”

Indeed, as they ride through once crime-infested Plummer Park at 8:45 p.m., children stop their playing and smile, while senior citizens chat animatedly. As they pedal onto the grass and through the park courtyard, they pass a classroom where an orchestra plays. The musicians look up and wave.

At the park, as in other areas where they patrol, the bike cops are a hit.

“There’s a Russian fruit vendor here that gives us fruit,” Flick says. “He loves us. We scare away the prostitutes that steal his food.”

There are personal benefits too. The two deputies are in great shape, although maybe a little sore from riding. And they can rest easy knowing they are alleviating smog and the nation’s dependence on oil in their own way.

“And where else,” asks Collinsworth, the avid cyclist, “can you ride to work, ride around at work, take people to jail and then ride home?”