The seasons are exerting their delicate change here in the bay area which means that some mornings are overcast and occasionally my hands get cold if I do not wear gloves. Soon the time change will come and plunge my commute home into darkness. I think I'll hand out more lights this year cause it's better to light a candle etc. etc.
I am currently exiting a particularly egregious phase of personal aggression against cars, something I liken to an alcholic having a drink and then going on a binge of pissed-offed-ness. I know I should be calm and mannerly and I know that if I antagonize the wrong car it might go nuts and tear my leg off but I can't seem to always get a lid on the instinct to let dangerous drivers know that I am unhappy with them.
So here, for your amusement, my latest instances of going berserk. Terrible language is ahead (I love bad language and can curse like a sailor) so if you're the easily offended type best be heading over to one of the blogs about how to bicycle and look pretty at the same time.
I'm on my way to work, thinking about a particular problem I am trying to solve and watching the road and the cars. I am in a bicycle lane. Ahead is a red light. I need to make a left turn at that light and so I must cross two lanes and settle myself into the left turn only lane. I stick out my arm and signal my desire to go left. I look in my mirror and over my shoulder and a car yields to me and I move over one lane. I signal more and look more and move over the next lane, at which point an angry minivan stomps on the gas and speeds by me on my right gesturing rudely at me out their open window. The driver's face says "bicyclists are so dangerous, it's shocking how they act all surprised when cars hit and kill them." I see the man's arm waving around and I stab in his general direction with my middle-finger because as far as I am concerned he can fuck his bad attiude with a rusted coat hanger if he thinks I don't deserve to make a safe and lawful left hand turn as I commute to work.
Now we are of course all sitting at the red light that he wanted to get to first.
I take a deep breath and use my powerful lungs to bellow "I WAS TURNING LEFT, YOU FLACCID DICKED ASSHOLE."
The parked cars around me all inhale sharply and I realize that the majority of people commuting to work are men. Their faces convey anxiety. "Who is this woman and how does she know my dick is limp?" One gentleman in a yellow convertible has gotten extra of my voice and looks particularly worried.
I sigh and attempt to clarify, this time shouting "I AM TALKING TO THE HONDA ODYSSEY IN THE RIGHT LANE, NOT THE YELLOW SPORTS CAR." Everyone turns and stares in the direction of the Honda Odyssey. I watch, smugly, as he quickly rolls up his window. Corvette guy spots the Odyssey and then points at it and starts laughing.
Ok that was bad but also incredibly fun for me. It totally turned around the feeling of having some disapproving guy with thinning hair chastising me as he revved the engine and passed me way the fuck too close.
All is quiet for a few days until I am not so much cut off as forced off the road (towards oncoming traffic for those p by an SUV driver speeding towards yet another red light. I arrive at the red light a few moment later and stare gloomily into her rear view mirror. She did not so much cut me off as never see me at all. She's busy with her cell phone. I frown. I study the back of her shiny Merceded SUV. It has one of those family groups on the back: Daddy in a tie. Mommy in an apron. Cute girl with big bow. Cute boy in shorts. Dog with tongue hanging out. "Fuck you and fuck your family" I think to myself. "Talking on your fucking cell phone when you should be watching out for other people ont he road." I peer closer at the car. The family people are not stickers.
They are magnets.
I brighten. I lean forward and abruptly pick the Mommy sticker off the back of the SUV and tuck it in my backpack. The light turns and I pedal away. Two intersections on I put the Mommy magnet onto the back of a blue Porsche Boxster driven by a doughy man who is busy texting his accountant. I smile fondly at my handiwork as he guns the engine and drives away. So yeah, from one Mommy to another? Fuck you and your thoughtless driving.
And since we are on the subject, a nod to my active fantasy life...
One day, if all goes well, I will be waiting behind one of those cars with "truck nuts" hanging off the back. And I will lean forward with my wire cutters and snip-snip. And then I'll take a picture. And then I'll toss those balls into the recycling.