Bikers. Excuse me, “bicyclists,” grind my gears…Why?

Well:

A.) the Garb.

When I play football in the park with my friends I usually wear a t-shirt and some workout shorts, as does everyone else. Now, if I were to arrive in the park decked out in full pads with a Manning jersey, football pants, and a horseshoe helmet on my head, most would say I look like a fucking idiot.

In fact, all would say that I look like a fucking idiot. Now, please explain why, when you are riding through downtown Indianapolis why do you need the sunglasses, Lance Armstrong USPS jersey, and the always popular matching USPS spandex shorts?

B.) Rules don’t apply to them.

I once yelled at a biker swerving in and out of lanes, as they all do, for being a dickhead and running a red light. Looking back , the issue was not with him at the time, but the mere fact that every single person on a bike does that shit; in addition to crossing crosswalks at whatever time they arrive at it and changing lanes whenever they are so inclined. Then when the obvious happens, and they are struck by the 2-ton piece of moving steel, they throw a fucking fit to the city officials about how shit isn’t safe for them.

Well, tough titties hippie, roads were built for cars, not your ‘Breaking Away’ wet dreams.

Which coincides with my last point:

C.) Most bikers are so far in pretentious la-la land that they are a danger to their own kind and others.

Example, the catalyst for this rant, some dickhole riding his bike down New York street today.

Now, for those who are not aware of New York Street in Indy, it is equipped with a bike lane. So, naturally, if you were biking down this street you would be inclined to use the lane created for your needs right?

No chance assclown!

Not if you are dressed in full out “Lance mode,” on a Cannondale, and going as fast as this guy! Much to your surprise, you are not biking nearly as fast as you think you are and causing traffic problems and potential accidents behind you.

But, that couldn’t possibly affect you, not without breaking the fragile illusion you have that you are as speedy as the one-balled wonder. Besides, the bike lane was way too convenient, safe, obvious, and wide-open for someone of your spandex-clad caliber.

The Monon, a recreational trail here in Indy, is a great thing. An awesome trail built to enjoy the outdoors, go for a run, take a leisurely stroll with a pet, or ride your bike on a sunny day.

It is also, apparently, the perfect place for you and your delusional team of eight spandex soldiers to fly through at dangerous speeds on a narrow and crowded trail. Strollers with kids are merely obstacles, and only add to the excitement of your grandiose illusion. Hell, my car’s speedometer goes to 130mph, but I don’t utilize it in front of a God Damn school! Because the laws of tact, decency and common sense actually fucking register with me. I am just trying to get from A to B and not pretending I am Dale fucking Earnhardt.

You’re dickheads and hypocrates, who will laugh at a Ford F-150 with a Tony Stewart license plate swerving through traffic at 80 mph, but then will swerve through kids, animals and old people on your fucking bike in your team lance spandex shirt.

Bikers, they grind my gears.