Thursday, June 9, 2011

Bikers, burritos and whatnot

So I'm driving today, in a rare moment of relaxedness - as I had ZERO kids with me - had just picked up a chicken mole burrito, which I was looking forward to eating at home by MYSELF, and was about to stop at Walgreens because my feet desperately need a new pumice stone (I think the last one got thrown over the railing on the back deck - and ooo-wheee, my feet are begging for a new one). Anyway. There I am, minding my own business on 23rd, smelling the deliciousness of my mole, about to turn left on Everett, when this biker (Portland was just voted, as usual, the most biker friendly/bike user city), passes me on the right (on a single lane BUSY street), and then cuts in front of the car in front of me to turn left, screaming at me that I was too close to him and was going to hit him. Aren't bikes supposed to follow the rules of the road? As in, you're on a vehicle on a one lane road, so you aren't allowed to pass a person on the right who has their left blinker on, and then cut in front of them to turn left? If another car did that, they would get a ticket. He didn't have a bike lane and he was a total asshole about it.

I mean, seriously. I could have fucking hit him, and he is screaming at me, yelling that I should pay attention/etc. If you want to share the road, then follow the fucking rules of the road. I can feel my blood pressure going up just thinking about it. I am SO the cautious person - I let pedestrians have the right of way (though admit to getting ever so annoyed when some 20-something on her cell phone doesn't look before crossing when I have a green light, and then looks at me like I'm a malicious pedestrian killer), and I always check my mirrors and look behind me when turning right where there is a bike lane. Any bikers out there want to defend this guy?

Anyway. I wanted to follow him and push him off his bike. Instead, I just went and got my pumice stone and a copy of Town and Country (who exactly is that magazine written for?) and ate my burrito. The kids were on a picnic with my in laws, and the hubs is in Walla Walla on business (and researching it as a fun destination for us to go and eat onions and drink wine).

So I had Quiet! And a few moments of reading a magazine, until they came home, and my lack of impulse control son (no names mentioned, Quinn), threw my unfinished pico de gallo and guacamole over the railing. I didn't even realize until I cuddled up with him, and felt bits of cilantro, chopped onion and tomato in his hair and on the back of his shirt. Really? My pico, and cherished guacamole? I just don't think four year old boys can control their random urges. Maybe I'll throw that salsa over. There it goes! I gave him a quick stern "Mommy is disappointed" talk, wondering if I could possibly salvage my pico 25 feet below. Ellie interrupted with her most angelic face and said, "I didn't throw it, Mama. You aren't disappointed in me, are you? I'll hug you to make you feel better." Quickly followed by, "Maybe I shouldn't tell him to throw it over the railing next time." It was a conspiracy! I told her she was an accomplice to being a litterbug - the worst insult you could throw at her - and then I had two screaming, sobbing children. And no guacamole.

No comments:

Post a Comment