Not a Car

Last time I checked, you’re not a car!”

First of all, I’m pretty sure, since I haven’t seen you or you’re lesser SUV speed­ing by me on my bike before, this is prob­a­bly the only time you’ve ever “checked” to see whether I was a car or not. Really, just drop the attempts at putting witty lip­stick on your pig igno­rance and come out with it: “YOU NO CAR!!”

You’re right, the facts are clear, I am not a car. But when I’m rid­ing through down­town, and peo­ple are open­ing doors in the park­ing lane and veer­ing into the turn­ing lane with­out look­ing, or sig­nalling, the cen­ter of the lane is often the only safe place to be. On top of that, it’s pretty much down­hill for those four or five blocks, and even with my mod­est cycling prowess I can keep up with the flow of traf­fic. I know you’ve got impor­tant places to be, but the one or two sec­onds of your life you might lose if you become “stuck” behind me is not worth rag­ing over.

I wish I’d had time to explain this more fully. I real­ize you may have inter­preted the fin­ger I offered you and accom­pa­ny­ing exple­tives as sim­ple defi­ance or aggres­sion. It was, but it was also the clos­est thing to this expla­na­tion that I was able to come up with in the time I had. Maybe next time you can safely pull over into a park­ing spot and we can have a chat.

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