Monday, July 18, 2011

something about just past middle-aged white guys

There is a certain kind of guy who I am especially wary around.

  • They are always white professionals.  
  • Their wives have (finally) left them and taken them for every cent they have.  
  • They're forced to drive a second rate sports car when their pals are driving BMWs and Boxsters.  
  • They haven't been laid in over a year.  That last time they had to pay and frankly she didn't seem all that into it.
  • If they have kids the kids do not call.  
  • They definitely do not have a dog, dogs have more sense.  
  • At some point they figure out that their co-workers have always known that those stories about 'nam are totally bogus.

And they really hate bicyclists.

We saw one of these loser white-hole-drivers today.  Contraption Captain and I were heading home from work.  A quiet wide road is briefly un-lined.  On the far left is a turn lane for going into a strip mall with a grocery store.  The far right lane is for people turning towards several apartment complexes.  The go straight lane is for people, well, going straight towards another residential area and the intersection has a 4-way stop.

This kind of driver especially hates two bicyclists riding side by side because it reminds them that no one in their right mind would want to be by their side.  We were not riding side by side however.  Contraption Captain was in front and heading up the lane for going straight.  I was behind him.

I watch White Guy Whose Dick May Drop Off  From Inaction as he shakes his fist at my guy and takes both hands off the wheel to demonstrate his contempt for a bicyclist who has the nerve to not be on the sidewalk with the kids walking out for a fro-yo.  He steps on the gas and zooms past my guy, gesturing rudely.  I cross my fingers and Contraption Captain wisely stays calm.

Hey White Guy.  Glad you weren't overly feeling your oats.  Because.  If you had touched a hair on my man's head I would have caught right up to you, reached into your shitty vehicle and torn your nuts off and crushed them in my fist before your eyes cause that's just how I roll.

Instead White Guy careens up the street, driving way too fast for a quiet tree-lined road.  He's shaking his head at the horror of having been briefly behind a bicyclist who clearly gets more in an hour than he gets in a year.

And then he turns onto our street.

So another thing, White Guy.  I don't know how many times I have to warn you people about this.  Never never poop in your own yard.  I know where you park your car.  Keying is for pansies but you have four tires and six windows that are very naked to me.



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