Braking the Cycle

People like to always say ‘time goes by fast’.  In addition to being a fucked-out, hackneyed cliché, it’s also quite true.  I wondered for a long time why life started going so fast for me, and then it hit me.  Routine.  Most of us are ruled by routine, and the ironic element to routine is the better you have your life figured out, the more routine your life becomes and the faster time goes by.  In other words, once you got your shit together, you can’t blink without what seems to be another Christmas or birthday coming up.

My weekend routine is rather enjoyable, or as enjoyable as can be with two little kids demanding most of my attention.  Part of my Saturday and Sunday routine is going to Starbucks to get an overpriced coffee and latte for my wife and me, respectively.  I grab my wallet and keys, hop in my car and hit the road.  And that’s when they get me.


Fucking cyclists.

As I round the first corner on my short commute to the caffeine castle, I have about as much of a chance encountering at least one of these weekend warriors as I do of not getting a weekend blowjob, which is to say certain.

A visual interpretation of my weekly fantasy

Why am I such a dick?  Why can’t I just share the road with people who are trying to enjoy the outdoors while getting some exercise in the process?  Lots of reasons, not the least of which is….

  • You think you’re better than me?  Look, I just woke up 20 minutes ago and have a mild hangover.  I don’t need you pedaling up that hill on Saturday morning, mocking me and the extra lbs. I’ve put on lately.
  • Those tights look ridiculous.  Speaking of lbs., you’re no Adonis either.  I can see the fat bulging out the saran wrap you call shorts.  If you’re such an avid cyclist you must have started your journey at 400 pounds, because from what I can tell you have a long way to go to becoming:
  • Lance Armstrong.  You’re better off hacking one of your balls off if you aspire to be like the 7 time Tour de France champ.

Your Average Cyclist

  • Quit riding with your boyfriend side by side.  These roads were built for people that had somewhere to get.  Like their job.  I get that you have a bike lane and yes, according to the law you have every right to the road, but you and your buddy pedaling side by side means one of you is sticking out in my lane, and I have to slow down or move over a lane to get around your non-motorized ass.  Ride single file, asswipe. 
  • Speaking of law breaking.  If you want to claim joint ownership of the road then follow the goddamn signs like the rest of us.  Red light doesn’t mean you get to slow down and look both ways before running the light.  If I was a cop I’d throw you in the slammer with the rapists.
  • We all know you’re ending up at the coffee shop.  For some reason, coffee shops are the mecca for cyclists.  They like to meet up at Starbucks, order their muffins and coffee, take up all the tables and clank around in their expensive clip on bike shoes.  You look ridiculous, stop it.  It’s bad enough I had to risk my life driving past you, now I got to wait in line while you figure out how many half caff mocah chai lattes everyone in your group wants.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy that flipped me off 5 minutes ago as you drove by?”

I am ruled by routine, and I like it that way.  What I don’t like are moving obstacles with two legs that threaten to make my life a lot shorter as I drive off a cliff attempting to avoid clipping them with my car.  If you like to ride bikes and want to get exercise, get a mountain bike and ride the trails.  There are fewer cars and even fewer assholes like me.


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