I feel the same way about road biking. I wish everybody had the experience of training in the midst of traffic for your stupid charity bike ride that you, for some reason, just have to ride every year. I know for a fact that this would make them drive differently around bicycles (who, by the way, ARE LEGALLY ON THE ROAD).
But not everybody rides, so here are a few comments for the drivers I encountered today who obviously don't.
- To the driver who whipped around me at 70 miles per hour on the toll road, throwing gravel in my face - Thank you, sir. A lot of women pay a lot of money for an exfoliating treatment such as this.
- To the guy in the truck who leered at me out the open window as he passed - Kudos to you, young man, for seeing my backside in these spandex shorts and still being so interested in me. Shallow you are not. However, I feel like you should know a few things about me before you decide you're ready for this jelly. First of all, there is a foam pad sewn up the middle of these shorts. Still into that? Alright. I'm also covered in dirt, sweat, gravel (see first point), and probably a little blood. I am mouth-breathing, no, panting, up this hill, and the inside of my right leg is covered in chain oil that I will not be able to get off for days, even if I scrub. My hair is plastered to my head under my helmet, and my crotch is probably black and blue at this point from being on this bike seat. Sexy, right? So if, for some reason, you're still interested, I'm totally in. Just run it past my sixth-degree-black-belt husband first, and it is on like Donkey Kong.
- To the motorcyclist who revved your engine as you passed - Yeah, I get it. Your bike is faster than mine. Your penis is also bigger than mine. Bravo.
- To the chick who drove by and gave me a weird look as I pulled off into your neighborhood - I am powering my vehicle with the energy from my own body. I need to catch my breath and take a bite of my disgusting protein bar as not to black out during the 7 miles I have until I get home. My apologies if my spandex-clad presence bothers you. Enjoy your drive.
- To the probably friend/co-worker/encouraging fellow cyclist who honked at me from your little blue car - You are really nice, but I don't know who you are because you just passed me at 40 miles an hour, and that honk just about gave me a heart attack. I appreciate the support, but I really hope you can still be friends with somebody who just pooped her pants.
- And to the jerk hole who just had to pass me in the same lane, even though there were two perfectly good lanes next to me - I get that you have a big truck and I am a little bike, and yeah, the 20 miles per hour that I'm riding down this stretch of road is not quite the accomplishment for you that it is for me. But my feet are literally attached to this bike right now, and I am far too clumsy to clip out in time to get off if you take me down. So if you take me into the curb, it's all over for me. But I get it - I slowed you down for a second there, and for that, I must die. There are not enough middle fingers in the world for people like you.*
*Dear Mandy's Work, I did not give anybody a middle finger today. Nor did I use the word "penis" in a blog entry. That was all in your imagination.**
**Okay, I may have done the second one, but I definitely did not do the first one. Which may or may not have been because if I take one of my hands off the handle bars, I will crash.***
***It wasn't because I will crash. It's because flipping people off is wrong and bad. Yay, Jesus!****
****I also didn't go on a bike ride on Sunday morning instead of church.*****
*****Alright. I did all of those things. Just not the middle finger one. Because of the crashing thing.