So walking around Boston all the time, you see a lot of people riding bikes everywhere.
A lot of girls for some reason ride antique bicycles . . . they’re usually bright powder blue, and make clunking noises like they’ve never been upgraded to the 21st Century. Whenever I see one, I’m like, “cool! That’s a cool bike!” But then I see the girl’s face, and she’s making a scrunched up face like she’s severely constipated, and grunting.
I got a bike about five years ago, because I thought it would be fun to ride a bike for the first time in about 25 years (eye-roll). I also thought, “Hey, I’d never have to ride public transportation again!” Yeah, that lasted for about a year and a half. My blood pressure couldn’t take it. Don’t get me wrong, once I got my bike muscles used to it, it was kind of fun . . . when there were no cars or no people or no other bicyclists . . . which was like, never.
Seriously, I would get terrible road rage. Now understand that I wasn’t one of the many Masshole bicyclists who do whatever they want, running red lights, or riding on the sidewalk. I stopped at every light and every stop sign. I always rode in the bike lanes whenever there were bike lanes. And Boston & Cambridge has quite a few of those now. But anyway, cars would sometimes randomly veer over into the bike lane right in front of me, or right next to me. I’d ding my little bell – ding ding! Yeah, that bell didn’t do shit. Pedestrians would appear out of nowhere by parked cars and run in front of you. Those people suck. And don’t even get me started on some of the other bicyclists.
One time I was riding home from a long day at work, and I was in Cambridge over by the Stata Center, which is a fancy building designed by the famous architect Frank Gehry. It’s on the MIT campus, and attracts a lot of tourists. Anyway, I was in the bike lane, and there was a middle-aged woman just walking right in the middle of it. As I approached – ding ding! Ding ding! Ding ding! She doesn’t move. I got very angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. I start yelling, “You’re in the bike lane!” She turns around and screams at me in a Southern accent, “I’m not from around here!” Me again: “Get out of the BIKE LANE!” Her: “I’M NOT FROM AROUND HEAH!” I’m not sure what else I yelled at her, but I’m sure it wasn’t nice. I should have just calmly ridden around her, but I totally lost it. Why can’t people read the giant picture of the stick man riding a bicycle and the word “ONLY” on the bright blue painted lane? (Takes deep breath). Anyway, I hope you like my picture I took two winters ago of the parked bicycles outside the Stata Center.