Y'ALL PISS ME OFF.
A bicycle is not a car.
No, really, a bicycle is NOT a car. It isn't! Really it isn't! Honest to God.
That is why they have BICYCLE LANES. Perhaps you've noticed them. It's the lane over there to the right of the cars going by, and it has PICTURES OF BICYCLES painted on it, as well as the helpful phrase: 'BICYCLE LANE - BICYCLES ONLY'
You, on the bicycle, are supposed to ride in the BICYCLE LANE.
We, in the cars and trucks, drive in the TRAFFIC LANES.
If there is no bicycle lane, DON'T RIDE YOUR FUCKING BIKE THERE.
BICYCLISTS DO NOT BELONG IN AUTOMOBILE TRAFFIC.
Oh, see, now you're getting that smirky look on your face. YOU are a skilled and safe bicyclist.
Thats why I've never seen one of you hesitate to run a light, or cop a glide off my truck by grabbing on to one of the stake pockets.
That must also be why you ride FOUR FUCKING ABREAST in the middle of the lane, chatting, passing your sports bottles, admiring each others heat rash ON CHUCKANUT DRIVE.
View Larger Map
...what they say it looks like
...what it ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE. oh hell yes. click for big. you'll see.
Blind corners? Please! No shoulder? You laugh-HA HA! You are on a bicycle! There is a view! GOD HAS DECREED THAT IF YOU ARE ON A BICYCLE AND THERE IS A VIEW THAT YOU GET TO RIDE FOUR ABREAST ON THE MOST DANGEROUS STRETCH OF 2-LANE ROAD IN WHATCOM COUNTY!
Yes, go ahead and yell things after me for DARING TO DRIVE A CAR on your road! Aw, did I pass you too close? Perhaps that's because there are no shoulders on this stretch of road, just a sheer drop-off down to Puget Sound on one side and a SOLID FUCKING MOUNTAIN shooting straight up off the ONCOMING SIDE. And then there's that whole issue of you RIDING FOUR ABREAST IN MY LANE thing.
You're breaking the LAW, DIPSHITS.
But still you claim your right to join the flow of traffic! YOU can maintain posted speed limits due to your SUPERIOR HEALTH! BECAUSE YOU BICYCLE! ALL OVER THE PLACE! NO CARS! CARS ARE BAD! EVIL EVIL CARS! AND BECAUSE YOU BICYCLE YOU ARE A VIRTUAL GOD OF RADIANT SUPER HEALTHINESS!
No! No, You are SELF DELUDED, you fucking moron.
BICYCLISTS CAN NOT MAINTAIN MINIMAL TRAFFIC SPEEDS FOR A SAFE OR SIGNIFICANT AMOUNT OF TIME. Its simply a fact; you are human powered. Not even Lance 'No Spare' Armstrong can maintain a steady 35 mph....or even 20mph. Not even cheetahs can do that.
Maybe a Klingon could.* But you, my friend, are no Klingon.
For instance, it takes me, driving my Environmental Rapemaster 250, less that half a city block to get up to road speed from a standing stop. Can you say the same? You can not. Consequently you cause TRAFFIC PILEUP, which is a situation where lots of cars have to slow down to a dinosaur burning idle while your lycra clad ass is fiddlefarting along 'saving the planet'.
I may also blithely toodle along and ignore with impunity flying bits of gravel, large and small insects, wayward birds, smaller dogs, cats and possums... you see where I am going with this? You catch a piece of gravel and its another story ENTIRELY. There are enough hazards out on the road. I do not need you freaking out and crashing just because a fricken' BEE hit you. The frame of your bike is really hard on my tires and you make that dismaying 'whumpwhump' sound as your body passes beneath my car.
You simply DO NOT GET TO RIDE IN THE SAME LANE AS A CAR. You don't get to do it in town and you don't get to do it in the country, either.
Again: Let me direct your attention to the big ol' solid stripes painted along the margins of most country roads out here, and the simplistically rendered image of a BICYCLE every few feet....? THAT MARKS THE BICYCLE LANE. That is a special lane we as taxpayers have designated as a BICYCLES ONLY lane for special people like you who ride bicycles! THAT is the lane where your shiny spandex butt belongs!
From there you may mock me from the moral high ground of your Alsop Carbon Suspension! Jeer me as you pedal down lifes' highway with your unfortunately dark and prominent butthole perched right at eye level, a butthole which is clearly visible through the fabric of your shorts, a
butthole which is winking and gurning furiously at me like Satans Own Rear Indicator Light as
you pedal briskly along.
Oh, you didn't know that?
Yeah, weird thing about stretch fabrics; even if they're on the thick side, or a dark color? When the light hits them right they're transparent. Now sometimes that's not a bad thing, I'll admit...then again, Dark Poochy-Outie Butthole Man Peddling To Beat 60 In Low Gear, sometimes it IS.
Riding a bicycle does not automatically render you, Bicycle Rider, morally superior to me in my car IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER.
No, I realize that you think it does, and you'll pardon me while I go grab another pantyliner out of the stack because I'm really cracking up here. I am. Honestly, you are saving the earth, Mr. Bicycle Rider? Single handedly? You there rigged out in 1500.00 worth of shiny petrochemical riding gear? THANK YOU MR. BICYCLE MAN.
part dos: Y'ALL REALLY, REALLY PISS ME OFF.
Bicyclists of Whatcom, Skagit, and particularly Island Counties, I hate to break it to you, but you are in large part morons. You are.
First of all, you are easy targets. SUCH easy targets. I am driving an enclosed vehicle that can go fast, and I have a baseball bat on the seat next to me. You are perched atop 5$ worth of low-grade aluminum and you're sucking Vitamin Water out of a container with a nipple on it. Still, you did insist on whizzing up alongside me ON THE CENTER LINE and then getting pissed off because I didn't see you when I made that left turn I WAS SIGNALLING. Mr. Bicycle Man, it is probably best that you not ever kick my drivers' side door and call me a stupid bitch again, sweetheart. You remember what happened last time? We saw a lot of downtown Bellingham that day, didn't we? Amazing the places a truck can squeeze into, isn't it?
Secondly, you spend ENORMOUS dollar amounts on equipment and accessories that do nothing but provide a substandard means of elementary transportation at best. Now, bicycling as recreation; as a sport, even as a means of local neighborhood conveyance, all good and sane uses of the bicycle. As a primary means of daily transportation through midtown traffic? HAULING AN INFANT IN A TRAILER?? NO.
Thirdly, you dress like a bunch of gimps.
No really, did they see you coming or what? Do you really believe that wearing a helmet shaped like Aliens' head is really shearing seconds off your time? Lycra, bucko? SHINY LYCRA? And do you honestly spend so much time at speeds in excess of sanity that you need to wear those stupid shoes that look like decapitated flamingo heads? You REALLY NEED AERODYNAMIC FOOTWEAR?? OH MY GOD GUESS WHAT ME TOO!!!!!!!
Yeah, I love it when y'all try to walk in those things.
Wait; I need another pantiliner. Ok.
Fourth, that 'virtuous by merit of my extraordinary athleticism' act you all put on. Seriously.
You come whirring in to a wayside. You hoist ass off the seat, which is invariably slick with ass-sluiced perspiration. Groan dramatically. Heave your trembling leg over, and hunker off bent over like a 90 year old lady, staggering and clattering along on your ridiculous plastic shoes with your knees as far apart as they can go. If male, you then yank down the front of your shiny shorts and out flops the Little Bicyclist for a pee. You stand there panting, trembling and sweating, apparently too much the focused athlete to bother with petty things like, oh, facing away, or going the extra few steps to the restroom. Finally you collapse backward onto the grass in your Cirque Du Soleil outfit and make everyone step over you. Yes, hail the conquering hero, all conspicuously worn out from your self-inflicted, earth-saving recreational exertions.
Please fuck off.
Fifth, hubris means nothing when you weigh 98 lbs and you've just crossed the Pass. Yeah, thats right, you had to post 'Warning: such and such tavern UNFRIENDLY to bicyclists!' on the Best of Whatcom site because you rolled in smelling like a woolly mammoth and tried to run your 'make way' arrogant bullshit past people on MOTORCYCLES.
Wow, did you mis-read that cue, huh?
When the banner out front says 'Biker friendly' it means 'Motorcyclists', darling, not 'Naturopaths and Vegans in Spandex'. I can hardly imagine why y'all need to stop at a tavern in the first place; I've never seen one of you dipshits finish a beer, you just swill it around in your mouths and then spit it out like Mohammad Ali between rounds. I'm not real clear on what that's supposed to convey. Still. Wow. Spitting, huh?
Heres a clue: If you're going to patronize an establishment where a significant number of the clientele have assault charges pending and you swagger in dressed like an extra from Xanadu, or Rollerboogie, it's a safe bet you're going to get a certain amount of hassle. Yes, we all saw you summiting Stevens Pass a few miles back, crimson and puffing, sweating like an undercover terrorist confronting a pulled pork sandwich. Still, nobody here is impressed by that.
You know why? Because WE'RE NOT.
* of course I admit that if I saw a Klingon in spandex riding a mountain bike in traffic I would allow the fucker all the searoom he wanted just on general principle. Ride Safe, K'rathNg.
....OK NOW THIS IS JUST DEMENTED.
THIS IS THE KING JAMES VERSION OF THE BIBLE TRANSLATED INTO FRICKEN' KLINGON, FOLKS.
I may cry.