This, my friends, is what they call ‘sticktoitiveness’.
Once a day I like to look back on the past several years of my life and reflect on the fact that not even five years ago I was quite happy plodding along with no computer, no cell phone, only one email address, and perfectly happy with all of it.
Then I was offered a job as a ‘blogger’, whatever the hell that was.
Recently I did some back scanning, and came across the first thing I ever ‘blogged’;
“At first I thought it was a Lifesavers © brand candy, but it seems kinda big. I mean seriously, whats in that guys mouth?”
I mean, it’s hard to believe I was just that hilarious, right out of the gate.
Fast forward five years and look at how far I’ve come;
I’ve developed such an immense level of profhessianalisim, I don’t even have to ask what is in that guy’s mouth.
I have found that in order to do my ‘job’, I have to rely on an array of places from which to get fodder to present here before you. One of those venues is the Book of Faces®. Recently there, I was included in a note that left me feeling a bit confused;
“I was riding home, on a section of street with very little overhead light, and a car was parked in the bike lane. I easily passed the parked car, but, because of the poor street lighting, ran directly into a huge pot hole, flipping over the bars and into on coming traffic. I jumped up, pulled my bike off the road, and smashed both side mirrors and front headlights of the parked car with my lock. About to ride off, I realized they had received a parking ticket, for their incorrect parking job. I snatched the ticket and remounted.
As I road away a woman yelled from a second story window, “Did you have to take the parking ticket?” My reply, “Don’t park in the bike lane.”
I now have their license plate number and will continue to fuck with them every couple of weeks or so.”
This note wormed its way into my brain and all during a long, cold and climby speed cycle ride, which concluded with the front portion of my cycle machine looking thusly;
I kept reflecting on it.
It occurred to me that this is like punching someone in the face because they inadvertently bumped into you and made you spill your chocolate milk on your new white sailor suit.
Cities nation wide are full of double parked cars and potholes. Sadly they are also full of bike riders who apparently lash out at the closest possible person the second they realize that they aren’t very good at riding bikes in said city.
Someone goes out of their way to inflict harm on your person by say, throwing a full bottle of urine at your face, intentionally swerving at you and clipping you as they pass, throwing a bag of garbage in front of you from the sidewalk, and so on, yes… Them’s fighting actions, but double parking I don’t believe deserves such a wrath.
It actually reminds me of a story that my friend Joe told me once about riding his motorcycle in San Francisco a few years ago. Now Joe has been riding bikes for two decades or better and happens to be the head designer at a prominent bicycle manufacturer, so to say that he is well within our trenches is an understatement.
Well, as he was motoring down Market Street one night, two cyclists were ahead of him making indiscriminate motions as to what their intentions were. Were they turning left, or right? Were they stopping? Joe didn’t know, so 30 feet or so behind them he gave them a quick little double tap on his motorcycle horn simply to keep everybody on the same page. He passed them, made the turn, and at the next stop light, one of them rode up, dismounted and actually raised his bike above his head and brought it crashing down on the front of Joe’s motorcycle. Joe made haste getting out of there, with a gigantic question mark trailing behind him, but then again, Joe is a level headed guy.
I don’t give most people the same credit.
Is breaking mirrors and headlights on a car because you crashed into a pothole any more irrational than attacking a motorcyclist because they honked at you?
No, as a matter of fact they’re both pretty insane, and if I was a casual observer of either, I would rightfully think bicyclists are total dicks.
I can only hope that this piece was a work of fiction, and that the person who wrote it was simply acting out such a ridiculous and knee jerk reaction within the safe confines of their own minds. Otherwise there is just one more motorist out there who won’t think twice about exacting their revenge on some other random bike rider, somewhere along the way.
Now, because I’m tired of talking about it, here is Glucifer to cleanse our brain palates;
I saw these guys in a tiny little club in San Francisco a bunch of years ago called Bottom Of The Hill, and nearly irreparably tore five of my twenty four primary get down muscles. I spent the following eighteen months in rehab before I could even tap my toe again.
Speaking of toes, I have been blessed with a small selection of pre-segrated socks for the sock segregationist in you;
Personally, I prefer my socks to be unmatched. It makes me feel unique like Pippy Longstocking, or her stoner counterpart, Hippy Bongstocking…
Anyway, these bad dogs are only five bucks a pair, and when they’re gone, they’re gone.
… Which reminds me, as of today, you only have nine or so days in which you can order one of the severely limited EVIL Cycling/ C-R-C/ AHTBM jerseys;
I know I’m throwing a lot of stuff for you to throw your hard earned money down for.. Really cool stuff actually, and it’s not intentional that it all should become available at the same time. It just worked out that way.
As a matter of fact, in ten days or so I will be taking a shipment of custom AHTBM caps, handmade in San Francisco by none other than Chuey Brand, and then some time after that, I’ll be getting some new shirts in from Stroker Ace Screen Printing, straight outta Portland East.
Then if that weren’t enough, I had a brief exchange on Wednesday with someone who works at someplace that makes skid lids about the possibility of a specially branded helmet.
Those are all of the details I will mention, because those are all of the details that I have, but assuming that the hour glass doesn’t doesn’t run out on me, this year is set to leave us all looking incredibly well dressed.
That is unless I get hit in the face with a bat.