I don't mean to laugh at your suffering, Cellery, but I had to laugh when I read that, because I know exactly what you mean -- I think the same guy teleports (or maybe not: maybe that's why he feels the need to drive so fast?) from town to town, harassing cyclists to get his jollies. Glad you came through it okay! (My worry with those guys is that one of these days, they're going to misjudge a distance and actually hit someone.)

I comfort myself with the thought that, Come the Apocolypse (or the Great Oil Crisis, or Your Civilization-Derailing Disaster of Choice), he'll be bewailing his fate, unprepared for the grueling 2.5-mile hike to the nearest grocery store, while we're still merrily pedaling around as if nothing has changed. Of course, I'm far from sure that anything of the sort will actually happen in my lifetime -- but it's still fun to think about

My commute today:

After a solid four days of lovely morning commutes, this morning was, well, interesting. Warm enough that I was pretty comfortable in shorts and a long-sleeved rugby shirt, but my hands were deeply unhappy -- unpleasantly sweaty with my winter gloves on, frozen stiff without

Time to break out the cycling gloves!