The alternate title for this piece is, "Why I’m Quitting My Bicycle Commute."
So this morning I was on a ride, and for the most part it was a really enjoyable sunny-day ride until I met a complete and total moron. A classic, corporate, postmodern ignoramus hunched liked a doofus at the wheel of his pristine VW Jetta, complete with bluetooth technology to boot.
I’m on 17th eastbound a block or so before either Valencia or Mission; I got so pissed afterwards I actually can’t remember. Anyhow, I’m in the bike lane approaching the intersection with a good dozen cars backed up waiting for someone to make a left turn. Of course, this guy can’t wait, and goes to do the I’m an impatient little bitch so I’ll drive around the car in front of me move. Now I wouldn’t have a problem with this type of move and would even employ it myself, say, on some three or four-lane road like 101, Fell or Van Ness, but not a 1.2-lane road with a difficult-to-distinguish bike lane like 17th.