come on.
the bastard's been good.
he moved to manhattan to stop being pissed about the commute but, sometimes dear city, you throw me a bone.
or a flaming bag of dog crap.
anyways, last weekend was the last of our fair mayor's summer streets program
which I hate; wait there's more.
the wife and I decide to go to the park but we have to pass park.
you figure, no cars, no problem.
wrong.
without the tyranny of the automobile, the bicyclists became the top of the food chain.
and as the top of the food chain the onus of obeying traffic laws was on them.
but they didn't.
as the top of the food chain, the onus of being considerate were on them.
but it was lost on the vastness of two wheelers.
now there is no reason a man needs to use a baby carriage as a means of leveraging his way across the street.
but I did. and I keep a hand free for the expectation of hand throwing which didn't happen fortunately.
the bastard didn't want to waste his Saturday in a cell when his brother in law was grilling across the river and chilling beers as well.
thing of it is this, my brother has had more than his fair share of shit with the four wheeled contraptions that "plague" bicyclists.
but some days it seems the plague is merely their desire to ignore people and traffic laws because they got to a respectable enough speed and, oh damn, here's a red light, nah, I'm gonna keep going, it's not like we get ticketed.
and BAM! your dead and some jackass is chaining up a freshly spray painted white bicycle where you went down because you thought this was a good idea, bro.
that said, I postulate the modest proposal the critical mass is wrong. we need cars on the road to keep you guys in check.
no good? eat a bag of dicks.
—the bastard
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