It is that time of the year again.
Spring is officially here and the weather is getting better and better with each passing day. Apparently, there are seasonal and new bike riders getting their bike out of the garage or stop using the bike as a clothes hanger in their bedroom.
Whereas, I am out on the street year round. I cannot say that I ride 365 days year round, but I would have to estimate that I am at least on the bike about 330 days of the year. I would say that is a pretty impressive number. Well, I do have my bike / running log so I could actually see how many days I did ride.
Everyday I will see a bike rider out in “my hood” – whether I am going to and from work, going to the store, going to get something to eat or just going for a ride. That’s all. I do not “mark” that rider in my memory. I do not try to memorize the bike and or the bike rider. Although, if I do see that particular bike rider again then it is kind of not hard to think to myself “yeah I saw him last week.”
Except, if it is a woman bike rider then I will look and see if I want to remember her again. After all, I am a sucker for a cute woman who may or may not be the one for me. Bonus for me if she deep definition in her calves and thighs – oh yeah.
I digress Readers, so there are more riders out there each day, but that’s all. I could care less whether or not I have seen you before. We are not friends nor am I looking for another friend in my life. That’s it.
If you are riding in the street – so be it. If you are riding on the sidewalk – so be it. If you are going to wave to me – so be it. If you give me the head nod – so be it.
Whether you are commuting to work or riding for the first time more power to you. Me, I do not care what you are doing on the bike. What you are doing for yourself affects me in no way what’s-so-ever. You may impede my way for second (perhaps more), but that is all. I may grumble, I may even curse, or even say, “Excuse me,” but after I pass you or we pass each other going in the opposite direction I will forget all about you.
If you walk you bike across the street in the crosswalk, more power to you. I am not going to walk my bike across the intersection and I am not going to care if you say a comment to me that I should not be riding in the crosswalk. I am not going to care if you give me the stink eye. Readers, though I do have to be fair that if a certain someone asked me five minutes before running into that biker walking their bike about what time is it then I may be in my sarcastic, don’t fuck with me mood.
If I see a bike rider in the morning, in the afternoon or at night, so what. If I see a bike rider once a week or 5 days a week, so what. If I see a bike rider across the street riding in the opposite direction, so what. That bike rider does not matter to me.
Entitlement. The new bike rider, that seasonal bike rider or old school bike rider has the same “entitlement” to any other bike rider – even me. I know I may be better than that particular bike rider, but I cannot say, or state for the record, that I have more “entitlement” to the roads and sidewalks I call “my hood” or outside “my hood.”
As I have heard (and read) in the past from most of cycling bloggers and bikers in the Southern part of Denver - bikers have “entitlement” to the streets. These bikers have stated to have “entitlement” to be on the same streets as a motor vehicle. Yet, these same riders somehow think that have personal “entitlement” to where they bike and every other bike rider is not entitled to “entitlement” to the same piece of road that blogger is riding on. A hypocrite in my view.
Actually, I have to be honest – this is a rider who reminds me of the Artic wolves up in Alaska. Peeing and marking their territory boundaries so no other wolves can claim his/her territory. Can you not see this resemblance, Readers? This bike rider is apparently keeping note of all the other bike riders on “their route” and the rider has issues with more and more riders in their territory with the coming of Spring. I just hope that the rider will not start peeing at every street corner, tree and fire hydrant on “his route” and yelling, “this is my house!”
Until the next time
The Fallen Athlete