Monday, October 23
I went for a ride today, and on the route that I took — a route that I often take — there is a section where I cut through some trees and emerge onto a bike path.
I am in the habit of doing this at quite a pace.
But settle the fuck down, dear reader, I can clearly see if anyone is on the path. Today, there was someone on the path, and I emerged from the shrubbery in front of him, with not a lot of room to spare.
There was no collision, but I startled the poor fuckwit who looked like someone that thought he could retire early by doing share trading from home but it turned out that he wasn’t very good at it and money’s getting tight which explains his lousy ten-speed bike.
“Watch where you’re going!” he yelled as I was already passing him.
It seemed odd that he was so concerned with my levels of attention apropos my direction — we were already out of the woods, as it were. Perhaps he was suggesting that next time I’m in a similar situation, I should watch where I’m going just like I did this time, because it worked out so well. Positive reinforcement such as one may employ with a pooch under training.
But no, I think he was saying “I don’t believe you were watching where you were going, and in fact only lady luck delivered us from a nasty accident that would have had us touching body parts, and I am mad at you for this, even though everything worked out OK this time, and I want to transfer some of that negative sensation from me to you by shooting annoying words out my annoying word hole”.
Whatever he meant, I didn’t like his tone, so before he had even finished his hollering I hollered back: “you’re a terrible person!”. I took my time with the word ‘person’.
It’s possible that I started yelling “you’re a terrible person” before he started with his thing. I do yell that every day at this same spot. That’s not true. On with the story.
I rode a bit further before looking over my shoulder (which I practice doing all the time so I can do it without wobbling off to one side) and he had stopped, put a foot down; he looked a bit surprised, and surprisingly sad.
Well shit, now I felt sad. Maybe he was a terrible person, but he was trying really hard to not be. Maybe he’d been going to counselling and saying things into the mirror each morning that were written on post it notes but they kept falling down in the night because of the steam in the bathroom but he persevered and bought some Blu Tack because he didn’t want to be a terrible person any more.
And then I brought to light that all his efforts were for nought, that he was still a terrible person, and it was plain for all the world to see, even to a stranger at a closing speed of close to 35 kph.
Oh well, he can’t win ’em all.
I don’t even know what that means, but clearly he can’t.
I hope to see him again tomorrow.
Oh, also, I saw a chap wearing a bike helmet backwards. What do you say to someone like that?