You Ruined My Ride, You Bitch.

I just wanted one thing, and you took it from me.

My hand was killing me, my legs were on fire, and all I wanted to do was sprint down this one stretch of road, this final stretch, same as I do every time I ride, to pedal hard, hit my ‘finish line,’ and call it a day. I didn’t feel like riding, but I had to, because that’s what I do, and all I wanted, all I needed, was my final sprint, and everything would be cool. Just let me push my big, hurting, tired ass through that finish mark, as hard as I could pedal, and it would be all worth it. I was Pavlov’s Dog, and this was my stimulus to get me to my favored reaction. That was the price, and I was ready to pay. Pedal Hard. Circles, not squares. Breathe. Close it out.

I know you saw me. I was in your field of view. I was right there. The pause you slightly made in your obnoxious SUV, one which you can clearly not operate efficiently. That pause, when you started backing out of your driveway, when you knew I was there, did the awkward brake lurch, and then decided FUCK IT, I’M JUST GOING TO GO INSTEAD! HE’S ON A BIKE. I’M IN A FOUR TON HATE MACHINE. I WIN THIS BATTLE.

And you did. You backed out like the fucking Titanic being pushed by slow ass tugboats away from a dock. You backed out so slowly I swear you made that Sloth from Zootopia look like the Flash. Saying you inched out is an insult to propulsion.

You inched out. And I had to brake.

Hard.

Less than forty feet from my finish line, and you just had to be in front of the cyclist. You just couldn’t wait a handful of seconds.

I know I’m not alone in this. I know there’s an innumerable amount of cyclists who have dealt with this, had some mouth breather in a car just totally ignore your presence and do something ignorant and selfish. I know you feel my pain. I know you commiserate. I know you understand.

That woman in the SUV. She’ll never get it. She’ll never know, but then again, how many motorists actually do know? To them, cars rule the road, and we’re the remora fish in the wake of your great white rolly machines.

Whoever you are, fuck you. I hope you caught a flat.

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