I'm sick of bicyclists. Not the regular dude riding his bike to work through the city, or the kids riding their bikes to school and friends' houses, but the "cyclists". The ones with the $3,000 bikes, the $700 helmets, the $300 spandex one-pieces, the fingerless gloves, and the designer water bottles. In short, the ones who take riding a bike way too fucking serious.
About the outfit. What's the thinking with the corporate logos that adorn the helmets and spandex? Are these fools pretending to be professionally sponsored cyclists in the way kids on the playground pretend to make the last second shot of a championship game? I know they aren't professional cyclists because I've seen their asses. Hell, stuffing their wide asses into the spandex makes it impossible for me to NOT see their asses. They typically look more suited for riding a couch with remote control in hand than a bike with water bottle in hand. Does the gear make them feel cool or important somehow? News flash: you are just a punk on a bike! Get over yourself.
About the road. What's the thinking with riding the bike in the middle of the road, taking up the whole lane? Roads have this thing called a "shoulder", maybe you've heard of it. The "shoulder" is where people are supposed to ride bikes and walk and ride horses and whatever the fuck else you might do on a road not involving an automobile. The painted lanes of the roads are for cars, not for bikes. Share the road, you say? I am sharing. I get the car lane, you get the shoulder, got it?
When a cyclist is riding in my car lane I like to roar right up behind them so that my bumper is inches from their rear wheel. They look back at me in fear and try to wave me off or give me the finger. Oh, how I laugh. I hold my stomach and laugh until I cry. Hey, if they want to bicycle on the road with the cars, they need to be man enough to handle it. It fills my heart with glee when their nervousness makes them wobble their front wheel, they can't steer straight anymore. And then I cross the double yellow line, punch the gas and squeal around them, still laughing maniacally and kicking gravel into their face. Take that, cyclist!
Exception to the rule
I'm a reasonable person, so I'm willing to make exceptions and concede that there are times when cyclists riding down the middle of the road wearing their officially sponsored spandex are perfectly acceptable. Those times consist of when the cyclist is a smoking hot woman. A lady with a fine ass wrapped in spandex is a sight I'm more than happy to see hogging the lane in front of me. In these cases I still pull my bumper right up to their rear wheel, not to intimidate, but to get a better view! Of course, the best are the bicycle chicks with the huge boobs. As they pedal each foot, their breasts sway left to right like some kind of grandfather clock pendulum.
And for the record, I think it's bullshit that kids are forced to wear helmets when riding a bike in California. Growing up, I never knew one kid who sustained a head injury while bike riding. Broken arm, sure. Sprained wrist, absolutely. I find it hard to believe that so many kids were cracking their heads as to require a damn law.
