I cycle. My friends cycle. Seemingly at some point everyone cycled growing up.  Right?  Didn’t we all at some time share exuberant wheeled flight through our respective neighborhoods?  Did not the residents thereof give us grace and safe passage with genuine delight, or at the very least purse lipped smiles of acquiescence?  I am certain no one got pissed off at me for riding my bike when I was a kid.  Hmmm…ok there was that one time…

So what’s going on?  How come as soon as we don spandex and climb onto state of the art carbon flyers as adults the attitude kicks in?

I query those commandeering motor vehicles, but let’s face it, a few of our spandex warrior buds are packin’ more than genitalia into those padded britches.  (I cringe at the high speed weekender pelotons on our local recreation path; another discussion.)   Relative to motor vehicle operators, the attitude of distain is encountered frequently and one of those included the bumper of a car tickling the hair on my calf at 40 mph, one finger out the window and one hand on her cell phone; who was driving?  We had never met, slept together or spoken previously, thus I will never know from whence her ire emanated.  She almost hit me in a bike lane and she was mad about it dammit!   I do know this; these type of events are completely irrational and therein I believe lay the inexplicable attitude so many of my cycling peers have encountered and can confirm.

We ride, we ideally smile and I get to feel the wind playing with what’s left of my hair during my morning commute.  It’s contentment not smugness, I swear.

Perhaps guilt is the issue.  Do our bright colors, irrespective of proper fit, our sweat, and our awesome calves remind the couch potato and drive through crowd how lazy they are?   Then of course there is the fact during busy commute time on signal laden thoroughfares, we are every bit as fast as are those in their vehicles.   Three or four red turning to green lights into this scenario is when I get the exhaust pipe acceleration plume as they blow by assuring, proving, demanding with foot to the floor I acknowledge that indeed the car or truck is superior, and most importantly faster.  Everyone’s in a damn hurry to get somewhere.  Funny thing; I always arrive where I am to be on time irrespective of my mode of transportation and astride my carbon steed paused at a red light on a sweltering hot day I am wide awake, thankful for my little bottle of water, and glad I am never stuck in traffic.

I have no answer, just a little Saturday afternoon balderdash…

D.L.