Tuesday
Miles: 7,206
Mood:
Confession #31- I'm guilty of auto-profiling.
The rain is gone and the sun is out. That marvelous, shining, beautiful, sweltering hot, eye-numbingly bright, humidity-making, god-awful, horrific please give me a freaking cloud please, sun!
The season changed from perfect riding weather to tropical storm downpour to good old "outside for 1 minute and sweat like a pig" weather.
There's an older blue bike along my commute. He appears to be commuting as well, because I see him quite often. I envy him, because while he is wearing a tank-top, I have all this heavy gear on. Not that it matters at 60mph, and to be honest the bugs do hurt less on the armor than on the skin, but it sure would be nice when I'm stuck in traffic. Unfortunately I just can't imagine taking the risk, so I'll just have to sweat it out. It's not that bad, really.
I'm guilty of auto-profiling. I can safely say that all of you are, too. We identify the types of drivers (both their style and who they are) by what they drive. I know, I know, you are going to tell me that not all drivers can be stereotyped by their automobile. Yes, I'm aware, but really, go with the odds. Does the 1992 Chevy Truck with chrome trim, cutout taillight covers, and velvet-covered dashboard leave any doubt? Do you think the driver of the bright yellow Honda with a 12 inch tall spoiler, fat tailpipe, and poorly-fitted fiberglass replacement bumper belong to a 84 year old great grandmother of six?
I identified a new stereotype for autos this morning; inferiority complexes. This includes just about everyone who drives a suped-up Honda. Have you seriously seen a Dodge Viper racing along on the freeway? No, they have nothing to prove. The only ones racing (typically at night, in pairs) are the slow, junky little Hondas that are worth less than the cost of the fiberglass extras glued onto them. The only ones who seem to have a need for speed on the freeways are the ones whose cars are completely incapable of any real speed.
A couple of them were on my commute. One in a lane, who suddenly raced onto the shoulder to cut in front of everyone, and another who quickly picked up behind him. The second one sounded awful. You know how most of these modded Hondas sound like leaf blowers? This one had a similar sound, but it was extremely high-pitched; a leaf-blower with ring-damage perhaps.
No matter. It was amusing as they cut onto the shoulder, passed everyone, and by the time they reached the offramp (which was their destination) I had already passed by them in the middle lane.
Ah, the middle lane. You remember me telling you about it, right? Pure golden real estate.
I think, to further my amusement, I shall carry a few pocket-sized copies of the
The Tortoise and the Hare. I was fortunate to have grown up with parents who put a book in my hand instead of a remote control. There are some things that X-Box can't teach you, although by their driving style and automotive choices, the
Fast and the Furious is teaching them quite a bit. It's too bad none of it translates to reality, but you have to applaud their restraint. They didn't attempt any flaming tailpipe donuts.
