Portland’s a pretty laid back place, the kind of town where motorists and bicyclists generally get along, if sometimes rather grudgingly. It’s a relationship not without its complications, of course, but things for the most part work pretty well. Yesterday I ran across someone who’s a notable exception to the harmony that usually holds court. Rather than ruminate unnecessarily about the unpleasantness of it all, I thought I’d write a letter. Since I don’t know the jerk’s name, and since I’d prefer not to default to colorful profanities, I think I’ll just call him “dickweed”…uh, how ‘bout “Dick Weed?”.
This is my story…and I’m sticking to it….
….
Dear Mr. Weed,
If you’re an African-American male in his mid- to late-forties, and you were driving a white Land Yacht on NE Glisan St. just west of the traffic circle at NE 39th Ave. at 5:20pm yesterday, this one’s for you….
So, there I was, out for a walk on a beautiful sunny Spring afternoon in Portland. Imagine my surprise when I looked to my left just in time to see you running your Land Yacht right up against a bicycle, whose rider had the misfortune to be in front of you. Yeah, I get that traffic was backed up. I know you were frustrated…but using your Land Yacht as a weapon to push a bicyclist our of your way? Classy…and bordering on assault with a deadly weapon, don’tchathink??
No way could I stand by and watch as you attempted to intimidate, and perhaps even injure, the bicyclist (legally) in front of you. Why do you think I yelled at you to back off? Did you think I was checking out your (not so) awesome ride? Yeah, that 1983 POS is one sweet piece of automotive art, isn’t it? Before you told me to kiss your backside, did you stop to think that I might just have been trying to protect the bicyclist in front of you…and you from doing some truly weapons-grade stupid?
I have to admit that I was stunned by the eloquence of your response, so much so that I couldn’t find an adequate comeback to your inspired and erudite witticism. Perhaps if you could have dialed the faux machismo down a notch or three, you might have understood that you were in the process of doing something both stupid AND felonious. Did you really want that on your conscience (assuming you have one)? Did assaulting a bicycle with your Land Yacht make you feel like more of a man? Or maybe you were just suffering from two-wheeled equivalent of penis envy?
Were you really in such a hurry that a bicyclist being in front of you in stop-and-go traffic at a traffic circle would make you late for your appointed rounds? I hope you got to where you were heading in a timely manner, and I hope your manly sense of order was restored.
For my part, I’m hoping you’ll break down somewhere on a logging road in the Mt. Hood National Forest, miles from help and cell phone coverage. May there be a reserved parking space waiting for you in Hell.
Yours,
A Concerned Citizen
