Question One: Do only assholes buy rice-rocket motorcycles? Or is there something inherent in owning the machine, in having that much rice-power between your legs, that immediately takes you over and forces any latent assholishness to the surface? Or maybe it has something to do with the ugly flourescent colors. I'm not sure. My experience suggests that the first possibility is the correct one. I rarely, if ever, see a dude on a Harley driving like an asshole.
This morning, there was a guy behind me on my way to work on one of these crotch rockets. (And what the HELL is up with the jacket and helmet that matches your bike? Do you think that makes you look good? No, you look like a friggin' Power Ranger.) Anyway, this guy popped a wheelie, then passed me on a blind double yellow, all the while holding the wheelie. While impressive, if a car was coming the other way around the curve, this guy was cream cheese, baby. The thing is, when you're up on one wheel, you CAN'T STEER. So stay the FUCK away from the side of my car. I flipped him off as he went by, but truthfully, I think he was going too fast to see it. I waved it around a bit in vain hope, but I was probably wasting my time.
Question Two: This I also noticed on the way to work this morning. What's with the idiots who ride your ass in the passing lane, then when you move over, they DON'T FUCKING PASS? Goddammit that drives me insane. They just hang out there in your blind spot, going the exact same speed they were going when they were sitting in your back seat. I feel like pulling back in front of them and just locking up my brakes.
Question Three: Why is it that nobody appreciates off-center humor these days? I got in the elevator this morning when I got to work and on the way up, it stopped on the second floor. A guy got on, and he had 4 over-sized shoeboxes under his arm, with the covers taped on. We rode in silence for a few moments, then I caught his eye and nodded toward the boxes. "Kittens?" I asked.
Nothin. Not a smile, not a sigh, not a disgusted look. He got off on 4 without saying a word.
Oh well. Can't say I didn't try. My next post will be about my first bicycle, and the unfortunate events that led up to the stroking out of granny grunt.