Cycling is supposed to relax me, right?
Well, leaving the parking garage where I work, I had to cope with half of Durham coming in for the minor league ball game. Plus bloody pedestrians walking to the stadium. Stupid me didn't ride on the shoulder. Cars or pedestrians. Can I despise them both?
Once I got deeper into the trail I was better. Except when some skinny ass guy who admittedly is in great shape with his precious shoes clipped to his precious pedal ignored me when I said "hello" out of simple courtesy at a crossing light. So I drafted the guy for kicks. Listen, Sparky--I let you break away. You want to pretend to be Lance f-------g Armstrong, that's just fine by me. Next time I'm going to smoke your sorry ass, I'm going to be that last round of chemo you forgot to take.
In fact, I think I'm going to go out right now, throw on my lights, ride on the damn highway. Bastards.
(I feel much better, thank you).