Good news ma'am, you're not the Venice Beach Bike Path Fascist (btw, you were going to be called a Nazi but I'm trying to not hurt the feelings of my sensitive readership) but yesterday you were the best, most glowing example of bike path fascism I could find so congratulations!
When you blew my doors off by passing me on the sand covered pavement at a high rate of speed, I must admit I had to work up an insta-sweat just to keep up with you. Since I like to consider myself as not being a douchebag, I don't have computer mounted to my beach cruiser but I am comfortable in saying that you were going fast enough that riding out on the open road would be the more practical option.
You were riding clipped in with a nice and quick cadence- so nice that you could have been a text book example of perfect form so why would you want to sully your ride by having to dodge the morons who flock to Venice Beach?
I mean really, if the beach goers who descend upon the rusty syringe filled sand to frolic in Venice's fart and hepatitis scented waters aren't morons, they're Europeans who aren't used to seeing people riding bikes like assholes. So cut them a little slack.
Come on lady, you're on the beach. Relax a little. Though I must say it was pretty funny hearing you bellow out "You gotta move it" in your surprisingly husky voice when the couple strolling their illegitimate child down the bike path paused to light their cigarettes.
What shocked me much more than your unexpected baritone was the fact that when you slowed up you coasted! WTF? You were astride a General Lee orange Masi and you had it set up with a freewheel? For shame! How do you even sleep at night? Even my mom rides a fixed gear.
Just for even having a freewheel on your bike you really can't dork your bike up any worse by adding a bell. Come on lady, there's small children around who have better things to do on a summer day than be being scared to death by the neon bike monster.
When you blew my doors off by passing me on the sand covered pavement at a high rate of speed, I must admit I had to work up an insta-sweat just to keep up with you. Since I like to consider myself as not being a douchebag, I don't have computer mounted to my beach cruiser but I am comfortable in saying that you were going fast enough that riding out on the open road would be the more practical option.
You were riding clipped in with a nice and quick cadence- so nice that you could have been a text book example of perfect form so why would you want to sully your ride by having to dodge the morons who flock to Venice Beach?
I mean really, if the beach goers who descend upon the rusty syringe filled sand to frolic in Venice's fart and hepatitis scented waters aren't morons, they're Europeans who aren't used to seeing people riding bikes like assholes. So cut them a little slack.
Come on lady, you're on the beach. Relax a little. Though I must say it was pretty funny hearing you bellow out "You gotta move it" in your surprisingly husky voice when the couple strolling their illegitimate child down the bike path paused to light their cigarettes.
What shocked me much more than your unexpected baritone was the fact that when you slowed up you coasted! WTF? You were astride a General Lee orange Masi and you had it set up with a freewheel? For shame! How do you even sleep at night? Even my mom rides a fixed gear.
Just for even having a freewheel on your bike you really can't dork your bike up any worse by adding a bell. Come on lady, there's small children around who have better things to do on a summer day than be being scared to death by the neon bike monster.
No comments:
Post a Comment