You know who you are, you ELITE riders! Dressed in magnificent matching spandex manifesting your chops, while riding your $4000 carbon frame made by Orcs in the fiery furnaces of Mordor. Demonstrating disdain for your fellow cyclists.... joggers... people pushing strollers.... for that matter geese and squirrels, and you fly fluidly down the Mutli Use Trails as speeds well in excess of Contador's (who ever the hell that is). As a member of the ELITE secret society, you position in high cycling culture necessitates that that your place at the intersection is always in front of all those who have come before you and have cued up patiently - that is if you even bother to stop at the intersection. You dont bother to call your passes - why should you - you're traveling faster than the speed of sound anyway - you will get there before the sound of the bike bell - and besides, weaving and splitting joggers at high speeds, through the narrowest of gaps, is good training - and teaches those muggles for being on your path in the first place.
Aggressive driving: it's not just for caffeine deprived zombies raging down the GW Parkway. Cyclists have 'em. Joggers have 'em. Pedestrians have 'em.
When confronted with ELITE swagger, some scream, some scorn, some scowl. Or you could go for a bike ride! I mean look at all the geese and the squirrels - and the sun is rising over the Lincoln - and the crew teams working out on the Potomac in their long boats - it is another magnificent day!
The blog London Cyclists wrote up a piece this last year entitled 7 Things You Should Give Up to Be a Happy Cyclists. It is wisdom (well, all except for #7 - that's just not acceptable). What's the response to aggravation? You get to go for a bike ride! Love Your Ride!
Nothing makes you mellow like 57 years and a bumb knee.
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