I live in a pretty scenic and rural area. As a result of both those things, on the nice days we have a lot of bike traffic. Up where I live there are two types of bike people. The ones who like to ride their bikes, and the ones that have to ride their bikes.
These two particular types are easy to tell apart.
Because of the scenic areas, the first type of bike people come from all over. They will pull up in their Mercedes SUVs, and they will have five thousand dollar Trek Madone bicycles, stretchy bike pants and shirts, helmets that make them look like they have torpedoes strapped to their heads, and fancy bike shoes that lock into their pedals. Judging by the standard amount of activity I've witnessed at traffic lights, I am fairly certain that if they actually stop pedaling, they will fall over.
These are the people who ride their bikes because they want to, and they want to because they are fanatics. They travel in packs and love to share the exercise, the camaraderie, and the fun of pissing off motorists by riding directly down the center of the road and not budging one inch for the car behind them.
Because of the rural nature of the area, we have our share of the other type of bike rider as well. They will have a rusty Schwinn with a wire basket in front, and they will be dressed as they are always dressed -- dirty jeans, a wifebeater T-shirt and old sneakers. These are the people who ride their bikes because they have to, and they have to because they no longer have the right to drive a car. They travel alone, and deeply hate everything involved in pedaling wherever they need to go to find beer or work or food. About half the time, the wire basket will contain a six-pack of Coors.
The odd thing though, is that these people actually ride on the shoulder. Somehow, either in their drunken stupor or through the hazy pain of their hangover, they are able to out-think the stretchy pants people. This group of bike riders know instinctively that a car weighs upwards of 2000 lbs, and that they, on the other hand, do not.
Give me the second type any day. The other ones just make me want to commit vehicular manslaughter.
*yeah I know the title has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but I was watching a rerun of SNL and it needed to be said.
honkey honkey
ReplyDeleteYeah I am the latter bike type. I carved my bike myself from a larger spoon.
Johnny-
ReplyDeleteNo one would ever see you "ahem" bump a back tire of the "want to" biker.
Damn yuppie, hippie, bikie bahstahds!
OH I HAVE TO VENT!
ReplyDeleteThe other day I was in my car, and I drove up to a red light and stopped. Traffic was fairly heavy. I looked in my rear view, and saw that after a few cars behind me, there was a woman on a bike - the first type you describe. She was in the middle of the road, and the cars behind her were forced to crawl to a stop in the line of traffic.
Whatever, right? I'm in the front, who cares? The bitch proceeded to WEAVE HER WAY TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE...RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! Then, when the light turned green, slowly made her way...STILL IN FRONT OF ME, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMN ROAD. So that I, and everyone else behind me she had passed, were forced to crawl along at her speed.
At a busy intersection.
During rush hour.
You bet I tail gated her skinny rude ass. Until I could get over into the other lane.
I understand that biking saves gas, better for the environment, blah blah blah. But next time, pick some side roads, BITCH!
thank you. I needed to get that out.
I'm a girl but I can honestly say Shakira is hot. She sounds like Alanis to me though. Or a goat. You choose.
ReplyDeleteI know of a person who got killed by getting hit by a car while on bike. In her case it was probably not her fault, but this really goes to show you how dangerous it is.
ReplyDeleteWhat, no one in your neck of the woods have a working carhorn? I'd be the annoying bitch laying on the horn the ENTIRE time they were in front of me. Did you know if you knock them over from the side they fall just like dominoes?
ReplyDeletewow, you guys are hardcore.
ReplyDeleteThe bikers (first kind) in my neck of the woods tend to hug the shoulder. When I was a biker (first kind), I hugged the shoulder and stayed the hell out of the way. I used four-laners to get out of town, and then I used raods with little or no traffic for my biking pleasure. To me, it was just common damn sense.
ReplyDeleteIt wouldn't be manslaughter.
ReplyDeleteMurder? I'm ok with that too.
ReplyDelete