Petal Harder Bitches.

Dear Cyclists,

Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking that your little piece of metal on two wheels is a car. Fuck you for hogging up an entire lane of traffic while all of us in AUTOmobiles sit behind your sorry ass watching you petal as we try and maneuver around you. Fuck you for making me late this morning.

Let me tell you something. If you hadn’t noticed, we live in the most car centric city in the world, Los Angeles. In the city of Los Angeles people drive to get places. That is because they have places to be. So when you decide that it’s a great idea to put on your little lycra tights and go for a “ride” on a Monday at 9am – move your ass to France bitch because I don’t have time for your shit. I’m going to make your fucking little helmet wearing pansy ass suffer. I’m going to cut you off. I’m going to get really close to you in my car. I’m going to come up right behind you and honk. I’m going to scare the shit out of you because you fucking deserve it for making my commute harder than it has to be.

(As for my gelat brethren who ride bikes, I ain’t hating on you for riding out of necessity, but I will just mention that there is this thing called the bus which has air conditioning, gets you there in half the time, and seems very comfortable and affordable. I’m just throwing that out there.)

So, all you cycling enthusiasts can suck it. You aren’t Lance Armstrong. Your little yellow bracelet doesn’t give you super powers. You’re on a fucking bike, remember that the next time you contemplate a “ride” on a weekday morning, because I’ll be aiming. For you.


Thanks,

A.ro