#Get out of that jabroni outfit drivers#

While usually it's some jagbag on his BlackBerry in a Toyota Corolla whose morning I ruin world I enlighten, this morning I offered up some life lessons to an Asian deliveryman in a white kidnapper van. I ready my arsenal of expletives, mix them with such phrases as 'kind sir' and 'ma'am' and let 'er rip. It gets my derailleurs in a bunch, if you will. Children can understand it, which is why when so many grown-ups fail to, it really ruffles my spoke nipples (that link is surprisingly SFW). I catch up, knock on a window and let them in on the not-so-secret concept of 'mirror, signal, blind spot.' It's not our failed 'illiquid asset,' unlimited credit (and debt) based conundrum of an economy it's basic driver's ed. I wonder how many people they've hit unknowingly.ДЄnd that's where I step in, er, pedal in, as it were.

#Get out of that jabroni outfit drivers#

Angry at ridiculous, inconsiderate drivers who don't understand the concept of a blind spot. Most people are understandably shocked at my gall, but even more so, I think many wonder how the hell I managed to keep up with them after they narrowly swerved around me going 60 m.p.h.-plus on a city street. If a driver cuts me off, as one did again this morning, I will make every effort, regardless of how it may affect my own safety, to catch up with this errant idiot and make sure he or she knows how angry I am. But when I get on the bike, all or a sudden I have an uncontrollable low tolerance for human error I have bike rage. In America, that's unsurprisingly pretty effing easy. It's easy to be this way when you assume everyone around you is a lot dumber than you. One of my best traits has always been my ability to be indifferent about damn near everything. And by 'no-nonsense' I really mean I have the non-motorized version of what you'd call 'road rage,' a quality that goes against my very nature (i.e., robotic tendencies and inability to feel emotions).