Dumb-ass car drivers
Dear Mr. Car Driver:
It was nice running in to you the other day (thankfully, not literally) at the intersection while I was riding my bicycle. You were going East, I was going South. We almost touched. I know that I'm an imposing figure, all 6' 3" of me clad in tight, black riding gear stretched out across the top of a black 25" Trek, the largest frame they make. If you want to stop and check me out, that's fine. But the polite thing to do is to stop COMPLETELY and let me through the intersection first. Or at least zoom through quickly and I'll go after you. That way I don't have to stop, break my rhythm, then waste energy starting up again when it's the end of my ride, and I'm hot and tired. The WORST thing you can do is what you did -- pretend to go through the intersection slowly so I have to come to a complete stop, then stop and wave me through. By that time you've broken my rhythm and concentration, so it's a bust. Next time, please try to be a little more considerate.
That was Monday. Yesterday I'm out for a long ride when I see flashing lights a couple of blocks ahead and a fire truck pulls up. A couple of firemen get out. There are no flames shooting out of the building, no thick black cloud of smoke. There's nothing to see. That doesn't stop the goober in the mini-van at the end of the block from slowing down to 10 miles an hour and rubber neck as he checks out the scene.
I should state here that the road we're on is under construction, so there's only one lane open in each direction. Mr. mini-van driver is crawling along, oblivious to the fact that there's 10 cars piling up behind him who want to get through the intersection that his gas-guzzling vehicle is effectively blocking. I risk life and limb to cross the yellow line and pass most of the cars, but now there's someone coming the other way, so I have to pull back into my lane and I'm stuck right behind the mini-van. This guy is going slower than I am on a bicycle. That's pretty bad. I start muttering "go, go, move, Move" half to myself. A couple of minutes later, traffic clears up and I pass the mini-van. On my bicycle. The guy yells out the window, "Are you talking to me? You are such a fag. Fucking fag." ????? What, are we in high school again? That's the most creative insult you can come up with (which is what I yelled back at him). WTF? It was cooler yesterday and I was wearing tights and a long-sleeve biking jersey, but I thought a more appropriate term was "aerodynamic." Or at least "metrosexual." Jeez...
