In fact, we poor pedestrians often fall victim to those most ruthless and barbarous bikers, tisket-tasket-basket and all. City bikes are evil personified. Especially those driven by deliverymen. Evil I tell you!
Perhaps I’m just bitter towards bikers because the dear old ‘rents told me I was not allowed to have one in the city.
“Please M
om! Please Dad! I want a pink one!”“Absolutely not.”
They fear their little child would kill herself amidst the vicious sea of endless cabs and crazy drivers. And yes. Yes, I do believe I would.
Resentment and bike-envy aside, I really detest cyclists. They’re so obnoxious. They think they personify coolness, sitting atop their vintage touring bikes. No, no - these stupid cityclists (yes I made that up) wouldn’t be caught DEAD on a Huffy or a Trek or a Schwinn. They have to have an ΓΌber cool, funky-colored-clanker of a bike. With a basket. And a bell. And maybe some pretty little pom-poms.
NYC bikers deem themselves invincible…AND invisible. They think they can just cruise down the sidewalk or zoom in and out of traffic and go unnoticed, come out unscathed. I want to scream at them, “YOU DO NOT BELONG ON THE SIDEWALK!” Why are they so egotistical? Sidewalks are for walking, ya jerks, not biking.
A couple of weeks ago I was crossing the street (yes, the walk signal was white…though I am a notorious jaywalker). I had looked both ways - like my parents taught me - when all of a sudden out of nowhere this stupid deliveryman flew into me. And he had the nerve to start yelling at me. Really buddy? Really? You’re in that much of a hurry! You can’t watch where you’re going, ya big dummy?
I guess my only reward for having to deal with these psycho cityclists is seeing them crash into opening car doors. It's pretty hilarious. And while you may be only be lucky enough to see a couple of these car door bike-strikes in your lifetime, the chuckles are well worth the annoyance that idiotic, psychotic cityclists ensue.
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