If you can't keep up, get the hell of my way...

I commute by bike to work, and there's this amazing rec trail that runs from the front door of my apartment to the steps of my office. I ride fast because usually I'm running a bit late and really, I don't know how to ride slow. Ask Mo.

Anyhow. I get a good pace going, and there you are, two spandex-clad middle-aged guys out for probably your first ride of the year. One of you has a super-spiffy bike that rattles like a junker because you don't take care of it, and the other one of you, well, you really REALLY should have skipped the spandex. But that's not my main complaint.

Your pace was actually pretty good when I caught up to you, so I tacked on a few yards behind, and started to enjoy the tempo. You were riding side-by-side, which on the fairly-wide trail wouldn't be a problem, except that your pace, every 2 minutes or so, would SLOW WAAAY DOWN; Mr. Spiff would stop pedaling and coast, and Mr. Beerbelly-Biff in the too-tight jersey kept drifting across the middle-line, making it impossible for me to pass his wide ass before the oncoming traffic of runners with baby-strollers and meandering tourists closed the gap entirely.

You would routinely speed up again, and I would think, hey, maybe these guys are actually going to RIDE. Nope. As soon as I'd let that thought finish, you slowed way down, chattering so much about nothing that you didn't hear me say "Excuse me, coming through", Then you would speed up, only to slow down again at the next intersection, even though there was no traffic headed through. You made sure to take the time to suck on your energy-gel packets and drift around in the lanes some more. For fun? Cooling off after that grueling sprint of a flat 20 feet? Excuse me for actually having someplace to BE.

I saw my chance and I took it - envisioning my hand reaching out and smacking you in the back of your helmets as I passed - squeezing through the oncoming lane across the intersection as the cross-traffic light turned green. And what did you shout when I startled you, passing in a tiny gap to your left? "Whoa! Look out! What's HER problem?!"

My PROBLEM is you treat public spaces like you own them, and while I took a big chance when I shot across the street and on my merry way, your riding clueless and tuned-out makes you a bigger risk to the rest of us. Not to mention the spandex - downright offensive, unless you are up to riding fast enough that none of us have to look at it for too long. No? Then move the hell over and let me through.

Sincerely,

The cranky girl on the bright-yellow bike.
Can't miss her.
She's the really fast one you probably couldn't catch if you tried.