HowTo:Get Off the Road
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I tried to be nice. I tried to help the environment. I tried to share the road, the median, and the margin. But the gloves are off, you fucking hipsters. Your exercise and critical massing has crossed the line. I'm the king of the road. Get the hell out of my way.
How to Get the Hell Out of My Way
Traffic's breezing along at about 35 miles per hour on this four lane parkway, and your biker ass is hogging the road in front of me. There's plenty of room in the shoulder to go ride. Hell, there's even a wide, empty sidewalk. But no, you have to fall in line with traffic and ride erratically in front of me with your little buddies. We pull up to a red light (gingerly, I might add) and you decide that you don't have to follow traffic laws, and speed right through the intersection after cutting between the lanes. Think you're special?
I'm driving home on a back development street, and there you are again, inexplicably riding four-wide across the road, completely blocking any chance of passing you. Yeah, laugh about it, dirty bitch. So when the parked cars on the left side finally disappear for a little while and I can pass, don't give me that dirty look or confused gesture. You know what you've done. And I'm looking at you, women pushing strollers in the street or jogging with your girlfriends. There's a sidewalk, right there. Use it. No? So I have to swerve into the other lane to get around you?
Oh, there's a kid in that stroller! Yes, great, push him in the street, encourage him to play in traffic.
How to Stay Out of My Way
So there you are again. Riding on that nice, wide bike lane on the side of this rural coastal highway with twenty of your closest friends. Here I come at 50 miles an hour, cruising along on a sunny afternoon. Wait, are you swerving out onto the highway? Christ, are you serious? Whoa, WHOA!
Oh, see what you've done? Did I sideswipe your fancy little handlebar? Oh, sorry, did I knock you over? Serves you right, asshole. I was here first.
What are you trying to prove, anyway? The guilt trip of my contribution to global warming isn't setting in, pal. In fact, I'll slow down right in front of you and puff this poorly maintenanced exhaust smoke right into your fat face. Suck on that!
What Never to Do
Oh fucking hell, are we doing this critical mass shit again? What the fuck? Why would you do that? Some dick just laid down in the road in front of me to block the way for all of you asshats to ride across. Where are you going? I could see riding to work, but this is dickery, riding around in a giant mob all day just for fun. I should run someone down. Really. As soon as this pack goes by, I'll chase 'em down.
Oh shit, some guy in a pickup just knocked someone down. Now the guy stops, and the whole mob turns around. Dear god. They just killed the pickup driver. Like two hundred bikers just dragged him out of the car and beat the everloving shit out of the guy.
I'm gonna be late for work, and here I am, sitting at a green light while all you jobless hipsters spin around town. Get a job. Go to school. GET A CAR.
All right, I see an opening, I'm pulling out onto the street HOLY SHIT where did that tee shirt stall come from, and why is it in the middle of the street? No, don't stop, go! What the fuck is going on, why can't I move? Is that a farmers market in the middle of the boulevard? Bikes, hippies, get out of the way, GET OFF THE ROAD. You know what, to hell with it. I'm going for it. If you happen to be in the line of fire, tough shit. I've got places to be. Now move.
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