Tri Cycling

[Sean]

Idiot! Give me one example of grammar nazism from your so-called "control freaks" here.

Go on... one should be easy for you to pull out of the "tailspin".

You're just in a sulk because it's dawning on you that not so many people as you'd like read your blogs...

[loCAtek]

bike helmets are "less sturdy" because they tend to occur at much lower speeds than motorcycle accidents.

I'll admit- I've tried wearing one. The other issue is: it reduces my field of view, and especially makes it hard for me to turn my head and look behind me.
That's my other secret to survival- I pay very close attention to the traffic all around me, of course. Which is why I've only been hit once!

Yup, I saw it coming and let it happen! I was hoping for a major insurance pay off, as you know, I'll do anything for money these days; even throw myself in front of a bus!

No, I kid. I did see the accident about to happen though. This was in the early spring, on a crisp, clear afternoon when motorists tend to ignore you the most. Why is that? The most visible part of the day, and they don't seem to know you're there till you're right up in their grill. Honestly, I prefer cycling at night when I'm a lot more noticeable and threatening to drivers with my scarey orange blinkies -boo! ...but, I digress.

It was at bane of my biking existence: the intersection with a red light. That's where I patiently wait by the side of the road, for the green signal allowing me to enter the crosswalk. For some reason, many motorists turning right, seem take this as challenge and try to rush the green, cutting me off from doing my perfectly legal progress forward. What do I do? I assert my authority, dammit! After enough of AndrewD's lambasting about it, I double-checked the bike codes and yes, any person in a crosswalk, be they walking, cycling or riding in a kangaroo's pouch, has the Right of Way in the whole of the Great State of California.

So, there I was waiting for my green light, and as it turned, I noticed in the corner of my eye an approaching auto. Now, he was going creepy-crawly slow, like only 5mph so, I figured if he hadn't seen me by now on this bright, beautiful day, then maybe some movement would catch his eye and I could start across the street? Only getting about two feet ... No... no, he wasn't stopping. He was still advancing creepy-crawly slow. After getting plenty of practice judging traffic speeds and trajectories; I could easily see, even at his snail's pace, we were going to collide. So, I braked ...and waited. deliberately leaving my front tire an inch in his path ...and waited. So, he continued and hit, or more like gentle pushed, by front tire askew. The rubber audibly rubbed against his small minivan's nose, but not even that stopped him. This pushing, in turn sent my left handlebars into his passenger side door, and his continuing advance caused the brake lever to scratch a long mark in the paint. Still he didn't stop!
WTF? Was this guy asleep at the wheel!?
Incredulous, I watched as he crept another ten feet past me, before finally coming to a stop. I was expecting a fight; ready for him to jump out and start yelling about the scratch; where I would point out that he had hit me! ...but when the driver emerged, I didn't have the heart. Here was very old man, in a wife-beater and slippers, his every white whisker gleaming in the sun. He was a black man so old that his skin had begun to pale, and all he asked was I alright?
I just said sure, I was OK, I was waiting for the light.

When it came, I hightailed it outta there, cause I didn't want to deal with the cop who was just pulling up to see why a minivan was parked in the street.
I figured, the police officer would call this guy's family and the proof of the scratch on the door, would get this old guy of the road hopefully, before he hit something bigger than me.

[loCAtek]

Hi Sean, thX for reading by breads!

[The Hen]

I apologize Timster. I was wrong that you hadn't questioned the word "bread". I thought you were questioning the whole sentence which had the word "bread was in.

No hard feelings, eh?

[Scooter]

it reduces my field of view

Perhaps if you didn't pull it down in front of your eyes. It isn't a sombrero.

[The Hen]

Have one fitted properly. It sounds like you head is too small for your helmet.

[Scooter]

That would explain much...

[Sean]

Hi Sean, thX for reading by breads!

Have you started early or do you have a cold?

[loCAtek]

You're here, aren't you?


...chingo, who wears a sombrero any more?

[Gob]

If you saved all the money you waste on booze, you could be driving a Jag by now...

[Scooter]

...chingo, who wears a sombrero any more?

No one, which begs the question of why you wear your bike helmet so it covers your eyes.

[loCAtek]

Woo-Hoo! I have arrived, folks!

I've now achieved Paparazzi, happily sniffing at my crotch, and drooling to fabricate gossip for their sordid tabloid net-rag.

While they so luv to roll in their own filth; a well trained pappy will bring hours of enjoyment. Just gotta knock them of their insecure habit of peeing in joy, to see you.


Remember: Calm assertiveness and positive reinforcement-
Lemme rub that tummy, goo-boy; who wants a milkbone? Huh? Com'on Speak-Speak!

There's my Happy-Pappy, Speak!

[Scooter]

Yep, on the sauce again.

[Sean]

That's actually an old Steve/Editec tactic: If you respond to me it means that you are my puppet.

At least I think that's what she's burbling about...

[Scooter]

It's a way for people whose lives are so completely out of control to pretend there is something they can control.

Little do they realize they are just manifesting symptoms of their disease.

[loCAtek]

Goo-boy, wanna 'nother milkbone don'cha! Com'on speak-
There's my Happy-Pappy, Speak!

[Scooter]

My point made for me. Can't get any easier than that.

[loCAtek]

Goo-boy! rubs his tummy.

[The Hen]

The topic is cycling Lo. It is your topic.

Please stick to it.

Thanks

[Gob]

That's actually an old Steve/Editec tactic: If you respond to me it means that you are my puppet.

At least I think that's what she's burbling about...

To quote a well known toxic person's phrase; "jump jump."