Tuesday, April 6, 2010

to be or not to be...a dick

As a sometimes-driver, myself, in DC, it's come to my attention that other drivers in this town do not understand when and when not to act like complete dicks behind the wheel. For instance, while ridin' my new bicycle, Junior, quite dirty yesterday (literally, as the record high got me so un-fresh and so un-clean), I almost got rammed off the road by an elderly couple in a minivan.

Without exaggeration, the old man driving sped by so close to me that my arm hairs reacted to the proximity, dropping their proverbial pants on the ground (i.e. my sweaty arm) in absolute terror. Luckily, I was able to catch up to these assholes at a red light and, to my delight, I found their window open.

"You know, you're supposed to give cyclists three feet," I said. "You almost rammed me off the road there. And also, I think the speed limit is about 30 downtown, here. Not 50."

As you can see, I was quite civil, polite even. Although, in the end, it wouldn't matter as these people clearly didn't speak English. But still: It's the principle. People make mistakes, especially old, stupid people with really thick glasses on while they're driving. Yet rather than revert to my go-to standby, Thine Ye Olde Bird Flip, I approached these dicks in a non-dick demeanor because I, e-friends, no know (oops!) when and when not to be a dick, whether I'm behind the wheel or not. Sure, with the language barrier and all, maybe a hyper-extended middle finger stretched out toward the hot sun would have been more effective, but then what lesson would have been taught? Nothing. Instead, it probably would've validated their dick mistake in the first place and maybe I would have even turned these foreigners against American bicyclists. Worse yet, perhaps, they would have then actually hit the next one they saw out of spite.

And maybe they'll still do that, however, not out of spite, but simply because my lesson fell on deaf ears (perhaps literally, as I'd say I was dealing with octogenarians here). But whatever. Like I said, it's the principle. However, if I see this van again and it assaults my arm hairs (or actual limbs) in such a way once more, I may have to ready my digitus medius, and if that fails, go to a method that solves most things in life -- violence.


Really old people are like kids; they're more fun to feel weird inappropriately swearing in front of than beating. In fact, I'm not really into beating anyone at all, unless we're talking about intellectual matters, foot races or eggs. Just like ramming cyclists off the road (due to negligence, spite, or just being a dick), violence is wrong. That is, unless it's accompanied by funny music!


Anonymous said...

If you really want to no* what to do next time, I hope this can provide some insight (especially at 1:36):

lessons in baddassery

-Anonymous Brian

*you need to get a helper animal to proofread your posts ;)

Marissa said...

My spelling is out of control!