Adventures on a Bike, Part 2
You know no one likes a biker. It’s true. You people in cars hate waiting for cyclists. You people walking hate having to move aside for a bike to fly past. It’s just a fact. So if I get a dirty look now and then, I deal with it and get on with life.
One particularly nice, early summer day, I’m riding along, thinking how blessed I am that I live in such a beautiful town with such fantastic people (the undergrads weren’t around, remember) and have such a perfect family. Nothing can ruin my mood.
I throw my hands out wide “king of the world” Titanic style, speeding down the hill a la Meg Ryan just before she gets slammed by a truck in that movie with Nicholas Cage from a million years ago, and when I slow down at the end, I’m coming up upon a sweet little old lady.
“Excuse me!” I sing it out sweet and in-love-with-life style.
No response. Nothing new. Plus, she’s old so she’s probably deaf.
“Excuse me, ma’am, coming by on your right!”
Still no response, but she’s enough on the left that it’s fine for me to ride right on by, I just don’t want to shock the living daylights out of poor old granny.
One last try as I pedal by, not too fast, not too slow, “Good evening, ma’am! Coming by!”
“Shit!” she yells as I pass by her. If this was all I’d heard, I would have continued to assume I’d misheard, just as I immediately did. But no, she continued.
“Fuc*ing bikers! Should all go to Hel*!”
Apparently all is NOT right with the world. Old ladies do NOT swear when all is right with the world. Do they?