Why Can’t We Be Friends? (Because you suck.)

I live relatively close to downtown Denver, so about six blocks into my commute is kind of the last free parking block before you get into expensive downtown parking land. No meters, no two hour limits, free and clear. Plus, there are only houses on one side of the street, so there’s always plenty of space.

I see a handful of people park there and then walk five blocks or so to their office buildings. Fair enough, clever parkers!

But there is this new guy who is parking there and he is bugging the crap out of me. He drives, parks, and then pulls a cruiser bike out of the back of his SUV and then rides the last 10 blocks (a little less than a mile).

He is on my exact same schedule, and follows almost my same route, so we have been riding “together”-ish the past few days.

Like many cyclists, he does a bunch of dumb stuff. Doesn’t wear a helmet. Doesn’t have his lights on. (Has lights, they’re just not turned on, even in the early morning light on a grey and drizzly day.) Goes the wrong way down one way streets. (That part doesn’t match my route.) Runs red lights when it’s maybe not 100% safe to do so. Generally just toddles around like a dolt.

But he keeps frigging WAVING at me. And saying good morning. Like we should be friends because we’re the same. WE ARE NOT THE SAME.

This morning he veered off to take his “short cut” the wrong way down a one way street, then caught up to me at a stop light. (I went the legal way and had beat him there.)

“Hey! You must have a better route than I do.”

“Well. I don’t go the wrong way down one way streets. That probably helps.” 

“Oh, I like breaking the rules!”


Breaking the rules! You mean the laws? And your face? And my good mood?

<Insert cute picture of a grumpy face. In your imagination.>


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