Dear Mr. Business Suit in White Lexus,
I was the cyclist on Embarcadero, in the bike lane, when you almost hit me. I thought you were drunk- but you were on a cell phone.
I wanted to catch up with you at a stop sign- and tell you to get off your effen phone before you kill someone, but you managed to dash off waving your big fat Lexus butt around the car lane. Who knows, maybe it’s not the cell phone- you just don’t know how to steer. Maybe you had two martinis at lunch. Maybe you just hate people exercising on a beautiful winter day, bitter about your own entrapment in a career you detest, setting out on a two hour commute to your home in Alviso. I don’t know, I just know that seeing a stretch of white paint on a 1-ton car an inch from your handlebars is terrifying.
Someone That Now Understands Why Cyclists Have Attitude
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