Bicycle Madness

What I'm about to address here is not PC.

And I do not care. I do not care that biking is Green. Do not care that it is good exercise. Do not care about the supposed gas shortage. Do not care that it cuts back on air pollution. Do. Not. Care. Okay? That's the sound of my SUV cranking that you hear.

I am tired of those Lance Armstrong wannabes who insist on biking on the roads. Busy roads, to be exact. Especially busy roads that have sidewalks.

On the way home yesterday, I got behind a car that was behind a biker. And we drove. slower. and. slower. Until I wanted to ram the Trailblazer into the Explorer into the biker. I wanted his blood. Because I was driving 30—then 20—then 10—TEN m.p.h.

And then. AND THEN. Then the old man behind me, in the Honda Odyssey, honked at me. HONKED. For God's sake, that doesn't help anyone, old man. And where is he rushing to anyway? He was too late for any early-bird buffet deals. And, I swear, this only made the biker slow down.

This dude was honk-happy, I could tell. He'd already beeped once at a green light when he was fifth in line. But, like, did he seriously think I was just driving that slow for fun? It was so totally obvious that we had a biker situation. And bikers do not care about you and I, dear readers. Oh no. They're all high and mighty, I'm-helping-my-body-AND-the-environment, tree-huggin', spandex-lovin' snobs on wheels.

So I did my part to help the situation too. I threw up my hands in disgust, ripped off my sunglasses, and yelled in the rearview mirror, "What do you want me to DO, old man?" Whew. All better.