Catch Up

I haven't posted anything here in a while, but now that I am well on my way to a complete recovery from my many and varied vitamin deficiencies (knock on wood) I believe that I can bear down and focus for a few minutes and touch-type out a paragraph or two before the hundred-yard-stare sets in.

First: There is such a thing as moustache handlebars for bicycles. What do moustache handlebars look like, anyway? Well, like handlebar moustaches of course. Which came first?! This has been bothering me for days.

Second: A set of commuting observations and occurrences:

• I nearly hit a cat on 2007/05/09. Riding along 37th, I saw something out of the corner of my eye, it's moving fast from left to right. I look down and it's an orange cat and my front tire is just about to slice it in half. No collision, though. After completing that daring feat I assume that "Red" is now the unchallenged leader of the neighbourhood cat gang.
• Also on the way to work that day: I'm approaching a speed-hump/cross-walk and an old man is waiting there to cross. I slow down and give him the "go ahead" nod and wave. But the truck behind me has other ideas. It guns its engine and flies over the speed-hump. The old guy and I look at each other and come to an agreement that the driver of the truck is truly one of the world's greatest a**holes. Bonus: I lane split and jump the yellow at the next light and make it through the intersection before said truck.
• It was extremely windy on the afternoon of 2007/05/08. It was gusting up to 60km/h DIRECTLY IN MY FACE for my entire ride home. At Beach Crescent I caught up to a woman who was also battling the wind on her bicycle. I said something like "this wind is annoying, eh?" She looks at me and stretches a single syllable for about 5 seconds: "fuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccckkkkkk".
• Rain started about 5 minutes into my ride home. Got completely soaked. Could see clear blue skies in the distance, and was riding toward them. But at that time was under a large downpour. Also ended up underneath some hail for about 1 or 2 minutes. Very painful on my bare hands.
• Quite a while ago, I'm not sure precisely when: I cycled through a California crime scene on Beach Crescent. I approached the scene cautiously, and a Vancouver Police Department officer told me that it was OK to go through because they were not shooting currently. It was a film set, of course. So I went through, weaving in and out between several Los Angeles Police Department cruisers and an ambulance.
• Here's an oldy from 2007/01/30: At Nanaimo/40th, a guy in a jacked up SUV came around the traffic calming circle and gunned his engine. It was quite frosty and he fishtailed pretty dramatically (I would characterize it as "losing control of the vehicle"). I gave him a big smirk and an enthusiastic "thumbs up" as I rode by in the opposite direction.

Battle of Wits

The situation: I'm riding home along a two-way street (westbound) approaching a red light with no one in front of me. The cross street is one-way street (northbound). So I stop in the left side of my lane to allow any cars behind me to turn right on the red light. Pretty courteous, eh?

I hear a car sidle up beside/behind me and look back to see if it has its signal light on. By the way, it was a black SUV. If it had had its turn signal on, I would have indicated that it should go ahead and turn right. But its signal light is not on. My rule of thumb is that an activated signal light can generally be trusted (that is, they're probably going to turn) but a lack of a signal cannot be trusted (that is, who the h*ll knows where that car is going?).

Anyway, my light changes to green and I start going. Not to brag, but I accelerated pretty quickly. I hadn't really geared down before stopping, my backpack was half-empty, and I had a lot of energy for some unknown reason. So I was already half way through the next block when the SUV buzzed me about a foot to my left with its big manly engine roaring etc. Then it slammed on its brakes because, surprise, the next traffic light was red.

What is a fella to do? I'll tell you what I did. Without really thinking I pulled up on this guy's right side and knocked on his passenger window. Then I made the anachronistic "roll your window down" motion. The driver obediently followed my instructions.

Me (surprisingly calm): You didn't have to do that.
Him (spitting with rage, pitiful really): YoU were In my WAY!
Me: Where do you want me to ride, the sidewalk? I'm allowed on the road, you know!
Him: You're supposed to ride on the RIGHT!
Me: (silent, but with a dismissive "whatever" type look on my face).

Presently the light turns green. I didn't have all night to argue with this guy. I wanted to go home. So it was at this point that I deployed my famous (in certain circles!) wit. I'll tell you now, my intention was to flummox this mouth-breather. To leave him speechless and instantly aware not only of his total defeat in the matter at hand, but also of the bleak futility of even trying to marshal a response.

Me: Go F*CK yourself!

Slam dunk, right? Mission Accomplished? You'd think so. But I had made a fatal mistake in this Battle of Wits. I had underestimated my opponent. I knew I had played the ultimate trump card (coincidentally that is the phrase I yell as I slam down the Right Bower when playing Euchre). But incredibly this guy found something that beats the ultimate trump card. As he made a right turn:

Him: Go F*CK yourself!

Since I was turning left and I was almost home, I decided not to chase him. This battle was over. There is nothing at that anonymous and ordinary intersection to commemorate the night these two cagey adversaries joined in feirce mental combat. And if there were any witnesses and anyone cared to ask their opinion, they might be heard to say, with grudging respect and, yes, even awe: those idiots should run for city council.