Yawn

 I have just written a blog post that I will not publish.  I did not read it.  I just typed it in.  When I was finished, I was about to read it to kind of check for any errors but I realized that it might be the most self-absorbed, boring post I've ever written.  As you know, that's saying something.

Maybe I will publish it as a sleep-aid.

Anyways, that leaves me with the problem of not having a post.  I could just write about the thing that I intended to write about this week, but it's about a run in with a motorist a few days ago and even though it's not as boring as the ... What?  Just tell that story?  Oh alright.

Sometime in the last 2 weeks, I realized that I can commute to work by bike (bicycle).  I could not really practically do that before.  I can now.  I live so close to work, that I can just wear my work clothes on the ride.  That's real commuting.

When I'm "real commuting" I feel like a huge dork.  I've got the strappy things that secure my pantlegs so they don't get into any fisticuffs with the drivetrain.

On the other hand, when I see other "real commuters" I feel like less of a dork than when I'm wearing my super cool cycling getup.  Except I don't have a big old goofy-ass beard like all the other "real commuters."

Two "real commuters" and their stupid friend.

Maybe I'll get a fake beard from Amazon or something.  I bet that's what all of the other "real commuters" are doing anyway.

So anyways, I was on my way to work the other morning when I heard a honk from behind.

I was on 50th heading south toward Underwood.  Currently, I turn left a block north of Underwood and go over to 49th because:
1) It is less hilly than going to Underwood ("real commuters" hate hills).
b) After I cross Dodge Street, I can take Douglas street east.  If I stay on 50th, I have to take Farnam, which is heavy with hostile traffic.

So my route is a nice mix of convenience and safety.  50th from Underwood to Western is a nice, relatively quiet street.  Especially at 6:30 in the morning.

So I was all "Arms of the Angel" down the street when I hear "HONK HONK!"

Pictured: Real Commuting

I looked back to see a shiny black BMW about two blocks away.  I didn't think much of it.  I was going to be turning off this road in about 30 seconds.

Then I heard  the engine rev up as I signaled my turn. I looked back to see that even though I was on the very left side of the lane because I was turning, This stupid [redacted] was going to try to pass me on that side.

Then she slowed (still revving) to let me make my turn.  Just when I got to the center line, she screeched by me on the right.

It was surprising, stupid, unnecessary, dangerous and uncalled for. I did nothing that day that had any impact on the time it took her to get anywhere.

I think maybe she just felt it was ok because I don't have a beard.

Well, I absolutely hate confrontations so I was trying to figure out what was the best way to let her know that her behavior was completely acceptable and that I hoped she had a nice day.

I thought about my good old friend Samuel L. Jackson and how he defused a tense situation by suggesting that everybody be cool.



But my problem was conveying the message in the split second that she zipped by me.

Then it hit me. If this hosebag knows her 70's television, I can just impersonate the Fonz and she'll know it's cool.

So I just pretended her car was a jukebox and casually pounded on her driver's side window with my fist.

Remember that episode of Happy Days where Samuel L. Jackson yells, "Fuck off you Fucking Fuck!"

Well, I'm sure Miss Black BMW, license plate #: [redacted] does now.

I'm sure we both laughed about it later and stuff.

Oh and speaking of later ... So later I was going over to Olympia to pick up a wheel.  On the way I came upon an accident scene. Three cars had been smashed up pretty badly at the intersection of 50th and Hamilton.  There was a police car there and everything! There was a woman lying on the road.

One of the cars had the driver's side door smashed completely in.  It was  shiny black BMW.

I hoped against hope that it was the car I'd seen in the morning.  It wasn't.  The license plate, though still redacted, was different.

Then I thought about just how horrible a person I am for wanting harm to come to someone who unnecessarily put my life in danger earlier that day.

Then I thought "fuck that gal" and drove my way around the carnage to go get my wheel from Olympia Cycle.

The End.