To the cretin in the pick-up truck

English: A red bike lane on the side of a high...

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I’m compelled to write this missive to you – an unknown, faceless figure who poked his head out of the window of a pick-up truck past its prime (but not its primer.)

You were driving down a main street in town. I was safely pedaling in the bike lane.

The you made this noise. I suspect it was meant to be a shout of some sort. I’m not naive enough to think it was pleasant.

But I’m fairly certain that physics was never your strong point.

The first clue was the condition of the smoke-billowing conveyance in which you were a passenger.

The second was your blatant disregard of the effect of said smoke-billowing conveyance’s motion on your voice. Simply put, the motion of the vehicle combined with the excessive decibels at which you attempted to communicate rendered your Neanderthal musings incoherent.

Please understand that this does not mean that I need or want you to repeat your message as I suspect it is one that I have heard before from similar people who directly correlate their manhood to the loudness of their muffler.

Just remember this … someday you’ll be standing at a gas station pumping precious fuel into your guzzling gas tank while I ride by thinking of all the money I am saving and the calories I am burning.

Maybe I’ll slow down and shout something at you.

Don’t worry. I’ll speak slowly so you can understand.

This post originally appeared on one of my earlier blogs, but I thought it would be fun to revisit it for #ThrowbackThursday.

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