President LeMond Must Be Destroyed

I have an incredible threshold for acceptance. I accept that the primary reason for making Iraq the New Puerto Rico was nukes (if I sniff enough gas). I accept the fact that George Lucas fucked up an unfuckable franchise. I accept the French.

But I can’t accept that I must share the road with bicyclers.

Why? My car weighs 3000 pounds. Why must I disignate the same care and consideration to an idiot pedaling a 40 pound toy on a busy boulevard? Who made this law? When did Greg LeMond become a congressman? If it saves me time, can I drive on a bicycle path?

I don’t know many bicycle people, but the ones I do know are nuts. Not a cool nuts either. I’m talking about a leg-shaving, farmer-tan-sporting, no-body-fat-having nuts that doesn’t go over too good at parties.

“My bicycle doubles as my girlfriend.”

How these people wield so much power with the Traffic Authority, I’ll never know. Yet I must drive 10 miles per hour on a street maxed at 45 MPH because the bicycler ahead of me can’t handle the bumpy sidewalk. It doesn’t matter if I channel Steve McQueen and manage to maneuver around. While I’m idling at the stoplight, bicycle rider pedals through the red because, hey, I may have to share the road with bicycles, but bicycles don’t have to share the road with The Angry Czeck.

The road signs are the most annoying. SHARE THE ROAD it screams. Like I’m already a felon. Ooops! I need to be reminded not to squish the 14 existing bicycle assholes beneath my tires. I’m so dumb.

Is it just me, or does duping the entire highway system
just make you look smug?

Fuck it. For now on, I’m driving my Big Wheels to work. And you have to eat it, too, sucker, because the law is on my side. You’ll never get to work on time because I’m taking up a whole fucking lane. It’s within my rights. You can honk and honk, but it won’t matter, because you have to SHARE THE ROAD. And you’ll know it’s me because I’ll be wearing tight spandex pants but no shirt. I hate farmer tans. Hell, maybe I’ll make a bicycle fruit pedal behind my Big Wheel, just so he can get a taste of the bullshit he and his healthy hippie commune been shoveling at me. Remember, I don’t need a turn signal because I’m on a Big Wheel. In fact, no road rules apply to me, because I’m riding a child’s toy. I’m completely immune. For bikers, stop signs are DON’T HAVE TO STOP signs. How do you like it? You like it, don’t you?

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6 responses to “President LeMond Must Be Destroyed

  1. I have long thought the same. God bless you. So true. So needed to be said.

  2. enjoy knoxville and all the bike-riding granolas, munchyboy.

  3. seriously, it just makes me wonder: exactly how many people had to jetison off their bikes before some politician lobbied a law for all bikers to wear plastic turtle shells on their heads? and, when i say people, i wonder “kids” or “adults”? and when i say politician, i mean “paid freak with no real direction.”

  4. Man I think it is all down here from here. The Blog started off strong and peaked with the Steroids rant but damn how bad is rock bottom going to be? In your bitter old age what else will you come up with to complain about? The long line at the drug store for your viagra? Or this damn rock music these kids listen to?

  5. Down here from here? What the HELL??

  6. move back to Czechoslovakia where people cannot afford bikes then.

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