To the Anonymous Asshole in the Sedan - You Know Who You Are
I truly feel sorry for you. That your life is so utterly void of meaning, so unrewarding, so pathetic that you feel the need to pass me by no more than 6” at 45 miles an hour, wait for my reaction, then vehemently motion that I should be riding “over there” (as can only be assumed by your hand gesture pointing to the right) makes me pity you. Do you really lack control over anything in your life that you felt the need to act out on the one thing you could “control”? Is it the dead-end job that gives you no satisifaction? Or is it the P.O.S car you were driving while going through Scottsdale and seeing all the “nice” cars? Or you’re just a morally backrupt individual who attempts to run over everything and everyone that gets in your way and then gets pissed off at them for being in your way in the first place?
I would ask you: where would you have had me ride? There was 3” of pavement to the right of the white line. Perhaps I should have been in the dirt? I know, I know, my little “toy” doesn’t belong on the street. “Streets are for cars, silly” right? When my bike cost more than your car I’ll ride it down the middle of the lane if it pleases me, but the last thing I’ll do is ride it in the dirt so you don’t have to - gasp - slow down. Your accelerator and a green light saved you from a verbal tongue lashing the likes of which you have never - I repeat, never - had to endure. Another 100 yards with a red light and we would have seen if you felt as confident when we were on equal terms - you, backed up in traffic and me, agile and easily mobile on my bike.
I feel nothing but pity for you, but I still would have bashed in your door if that damned red light would have cooperated. Oh, and for the record, I rode the rest of Pima in the middle of the lane to insure no one was given the tempation to pass without giving me plenty of room so your little “control” episode… it backfired.