Monday, April 1, 2013
Tip this, Fat Man
Oh, Mr. Ignorant Fat Man, in your beige-ish Malibu of a few model years ago, headed West on Hwy H this past Easter Sunday, just East of the Hwy EE junction, with the likely-plump baby in the backseat's rear-facing car seat, oh how I hope you were truly amused...
I was 65 miles into an 80 mile bike ride, minding my own business, enjoying my out-in-the-country bliss of cranking away through a substantial right-to-left crosswind when you thought it most appropriate to try out Mater's "tractor tipping" approach on this unsuspecting cyclist.
You eased up on me pretty quiet, almost like your lardy-ness was tip-toe-ing on the tires just like good ol' Tow-mater in the scene above. The anticipation and excitement of the moment must have been riveting in your nickel-sized brain. I'd just noticed the sound of your WalMart tires when you sprung into action: rolling up beside me, doing nearly the exact same speed, just out of my peripheral vision...you laid on that puzzy-azz horn with all your dough-ish bulk.
I was startled, to say the least. Trying my best (and I'm thankfully pretty damn good at it) to hold my line, I looked to the left, ready to quickly identify issue, threat to my person, and what evasive actions I might be required to perform. Alas, I found no danger, no issue...just your ugly, fat, balding mug with a shit-eating grin, your cellulite spilling over the consol to smother your ever-so-proud wife (I mean, holding her face in her hands while she shook her hanging head IS how she shows her pride, right?!?) while you held your sausage link thumbs-up in clear view of the passenger window.
What were you hoping & expecting me to do, exactly? You may live in a Disney cartoon reality, but while I can pop a pretty mean wheelie, even on a road bike, it's not the usual response from a frightened-for-no-good-effing-reason cyclist. What you didn't consider in your funnier-than-a-fat-man-trying-to-wipe moment of jest, however, is how easily that little prank could've gone seriously wrong. Aforementioned right-to-left crosswind? Yeah, were I any more surprised & distracted, that 20+ mph North wind could've quickly put me on your hood, into the side of your car, or even under your front wheels. Boy howdy! Now THAT woulda been some funny shit, eh? THAT woulda surely made Mrs. Ignorant Fat Man proud of you to a whole new level, don't ya think? Well played Sir Six Chins, well played.
I really did then enjoy exchanging hand signals with you, but I refrained from using the finger you deserved - nothing but big smiles, return thumbs-up, and a genuine wave to "come on back, Mr. Ignorant Fat Man - let's have us a l'il chat." You didn't. Obviously intimidated by my still riding upright, lycra-clad, 165-ish pounds of intimidation. It's too bad. I really think that woulda been an equally entertaining episode for me.
I do hope you and yours enjoyed the Happiest of Easter, made even happier by your "bike tippin'" ploy. No, no, really, it's now truly been my pleasure...