F**king cyclists

Driving my car, I pulled up to a stoplight the other day. Two vehicles in front of me, another behind, at least two on the other side of the intersection, all of us waiting for the red light. A cyclist pulls up to the front on the other side of the intersection, slows down just long enough to look both ways, then crosses under the red light. Right in front of at least five drivers.
As he is passing me, I say out the window, "Sir, that's a red light and you have to stop and wait for it."
He couldn't believe that someone would chastise him for exercising his right to do whatever the hell he wants, so he pulls around my back, circles the car and comes up to my window, just out of my reach. He says, "Is it any of your business how I ride my bike?"
I say, "Yes, it IS my business how you ride your bike. I own a bicycle shop, I contribute to bicycle advocacy organizations who lobby for YOUR RIGHTS, and I ride around this city all the time. And I'm telling you with great certainty that YOU MUST STOP AND WAIT FOR THAT RED LIGHT."
He just stood there, dumbfounded. Surprised, that it really IS my business how he rides his bike.
Now the light is green, and he's stuck there in the wrong lane and people are honking. So I turn away from him and drive off.
Amateur. Selfish clown. Does he have any idea how much damage he does with a stupid stunt like that? Does he realize that he makes us all look bad? What does he think all those drivers are thinking when he blows off the red light?


I'm riding to work one morning, and I pull up to a red light westbound at Chenango and Broadway. It's one of those intersections that aren't timed-if you're a pedestrian you punch the button and if you're in a car the sensor in the concrete picks it up and you're in the system. If you're on a bicycle you are screwed-the light doesn't even know you're there-you either have to go over and hit the button (leave your bike parked in the street, because you can't have a vehicle on the sidewalk) or you wait for a car to pull up and trigger the light, or you wait forever. Or you blow off the light. Tough choice.
On this particular morning, a car was opposite me waiting for the light, so I knew that it would turn green soon. I'm in my lane, there's no doubt which direction I'm going, and there's another car pulling into line behind me. We're all waiting patiently for the light, when another cyclist pulls up beside me. On a fixed-gear, with cards in the spokes, stupid-narrow handlebar, dirty little bikey cap, faux-broken-in messenger bag, cutoff plaid pants, tattoos, piercings, chains, the whole poser deal. He touches down, he's looking both ways and inching forward like he's going to just go on through, so I say, "How are you doing this morning?"
This puts him off his guard and, surprised, he looks over at me with a "you talking to me?" look.
"Where you headed?" I ask.
"Downtown" was his curt reply. And he's inching forward again, looking both ways.
"How long you been riding a fixxie?" I ask. He gives me another one of those "why the f**k are you wasting my time?" looks.
I smile.
"Seven months," he says. A real pro. And he starts inching forward again, in a terrific hurry to get to the coffee shop I guess.
I know what's going on here, and so does he, so I'm ready now to stop messing around. "You need to wait for that red light," I say, "we don't want to make a bad show for these drivers."
Which he did.
The End.