Your Bike and You. A handbook for the feral female...

I spend the majority of my day avoiding people for one reason or another. Pretentious? Perhaps, but I assure you, it is more for their benefit than mine. Occasionally, however, I put aside my particular brand of snobbery for the greater good. Today was one of those days.

After an 11 hour work day, I headed for home, anticipating my collapse into the waiting arms of my garage sale recliner. After, a mere two blocks, the car in front of mine made a last minute turn decision and I was forced to apply a liberal amount of brake. Such occurrences are not uncommon, but today I had a trio of crotch rockets rapidly approaching my rear and was unaware of their presence until they changed lanes and blew past me, setting off a series of strokes. Being a little on the testy side, I rapidly increased my speed with the intention of exacting a form of justice yet to be determined. Luckily my fellow motorists and I were on the same page. As I sped up, the vehicles ahead of me seemed to simultaneously slow down, effectively entombing the bastards in a coffin comprised of a semi-truck, a Prius, a low riding Cadillac (complete with a genuine banger), a duo of SUV's and myself. For two awe-inspiring miles, we managed to thwart their attempts at escape when an inevitable yellow light provided the lead bike a chance at freedom. Having only begun to slake my lust for justice, I attempted a maneuver inspired by the amalgam of a senior citizen and a junior high girl and suceeded in cutting the tail bike off from his clan by 3 cars and a redlight. I met douche-baggery head on and kicked it square in its overly exaggerated genitals.

Sadly, all these efforts were for naught. While stopped in the left hand turn lane, a Jeep full of rather esteem-lacking females instictively initiated an ego stroke more powerful than even my well-honed misanthropy could counter. Damn...guess I'll have to save my bitch-bike quips for next time...