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grrgoylIt's happened. I've become a bike snob. It's because when you're out there pedaling, there isn't a lot to think about except your fellow bikers. It was just a matter of time before I started judging everyone I see out there.
Cut in case you don't want to read how everyone sucks but me.
People who don't wear helmets: This is rule #1. People who don't wear helmets obviously don't know just how easy it is for an accident to happen.
Back before I had any sort of passion about the hobby, when we first moved to Denver, we went up to the mountains for some downhill action. The ski slopes become perfect downhill trails in summer and you can ride the lift to the top rather than kill yourself climbing. We went twice, and both times I had pretty big spills (I blame them on renting bikes that didn't fit me properly). The first time we were toodling along on the Girl Scout trail or something equally innocuous sounding. A section of trail was closed for maintenance with a small diversion onto a more difficult trail. I thought I was handling it just fine, but I hit a rock the wrong way and suddenly was airborne straight over my handlebars.
Somewhere mid-air my martial arts training from college kicked in and I automatically tucked into a somersault, landing unharmed (I was also wearing a helmet). My friend Becky, who was behind me, said it was the best looking fall she'd ever seen. The bike didn't fare as well however, and had to be carried the rest of the way down the mountain.
My point is, it doesn't take much, and no one plans to go over their bars.
I saw a woman in Cherry Creek, bare-headed, with a Camelbak water pack that could easily have cost twice as much as a decent helmet. Sweetie, blunt head trauma will mess you up faster than dehydration, I promise you. Yes, Cherry Creek is pretty tame in comparison to downhill mountain trails, but you just never know what might happen.
People who pass you who probably shouldn't: The rules of biking are not so different from the rules of driving, yet people get on a bike and act like it's a free-for-all (perhaps this is how they drive too).
Which is why I felt more than a little irked by this guy. I was aware he was behind me. Then I realized he was coming up alongside me to pass. I glanced over -- he looked like a construction worker on his way home, no helmet and a beat-up old bike. He was passing, but barely; we rode neck and neck for a good 3-4 minutes.
He finally pulled ahead of me, but barely. He came to a stop at the intersection at the park entrance, where I hardly ever stop on weekdays because there's very little traffic entering and 90% of the time the light favors us. First he created a nice bottleneck there, blocking not just me but two racers crossing towards us. Then he tiptoed across the intersection erratically, not giving me any room to get around him.
On the other side, he kept up the bobbing and weaving, side to side all over the path but barely a foot in front of me. This is not courtesy. I finally snarled, "TO YOUR RIGHT" and passed him, breaking free easily and leaving him in the dirt.
Just like in a car, if you aren't going measurably faster than me, either deal with sitting behind me or wait until you've saved up enough energy and pass me on a clear, flat stretch. I'm not Lance Armstrong. I don't have to be in front. But my god, two wheels or four, don't pass me and then go slower than me. Clueless or just an asshole? Who knows.
Conversely, one day I got behind a wizened little old man. He had scrawny little arms and legs, looked arthritic if not palsied on the bike. I hope to still be having adventures on Rogue when I'm his age.
The point is, I would have passed him except we were coming up on what I knew to be a long, steady hill that kicks my ass. So I hung back, drafting him silently for a good ten minutes or so.
Finally I made my move near the top, knowing it was going to level out soon. He looked over at me and said apologetically, "This is a tough hill!"
"I know," I reassured him sympathetically. "That's why I was in no hurry to pass you!"
Common courtesy. It's not so common.
People who don't fit their bikes: The hot new thing is these cruiser-style bikes with tall, chopper-like handlebars that people have to stretch upward to hold. They look uncomfortable as hell, but I've never ridden one so I can't say. They also look better suited for grocery shopping in Amsterdam than sharing the road with triathletes in training, but there we are.
What bugs me is people on bikes that are too small for them. Big tall guys crammed onto bikes that look a half size too small. I saw a guy all togged out in professional-looking racing gear, who had to lift his knees at sharp 45-degree angles off to the side just to pedal. He looked like he was riding his teenage daughter's bike, and that's just wrong in so many ways.
I blame this on people buying bikes at Target and Walmart, where no one knows the importance of proper bike sizing (see "people who don't wear helmets" above).
People who insist on taking up the whole path: Like bikers who insist on riding side by side so they can chat with their friend (I only want Ryan beside me when the road is extra wide). Or Mr. Bob and Weave above, who can't control his driving and becomes an obstacle for everyone else.
Even worse, smug pedestrians who refuse to move to the side for the three steps it will take me to pass. Yes, pedestrians have the "right of way," but to me I think "right of way" only applies when there's only one way available and two people need it. If it's possible for both to pass comfortably (provided one isn't a stubborn, self-important asshat), then "right of way" doesn't enter into it.
Alright, I'm done being a bitch. I suspect it won't be long before I start snapping at people for making U-turns half a mile ahead of me.
We had the best Fourth of July ever, because it rained almost the entire day and night. Good because it discouraged most of the asshole backyard displays. Good because the ground was nice and wet so we didn't mind the ones that did go off so much. Bad because it means the asshole backyard displays have plenty of left-overs to use the rest of the month.
I had hoped to go to Deer Creek Canyon today, but I learned my lesson about rainy weekends and dirt trails at Barr Lake. Plus I didn't relish the thought of dealing with a bunch of people taking a three-day weekend and flocking to parks statewide.
I hit Cherry Creek instead, and at first thought I'd regret my decision to stay home -- until I reached the side where the wetlands are, and a spot where the path was completely submerged by a 2-inch deep puddle that stretched for about 500 feet. Before realizing how deep it was, the first two pedal strokes sprayed water straight up my back to my neck. By the time that puddle was done with me, my shoes were soaked through to the skin. Which helped me cool down at least, but I get worried about negative effects on Rogue Leader's chain, etc.
If this was what a paved trail looked like, I couldn't imagine what a dirt trail had going on; I absolutely think I made the right decision to avoid it. For once.
Cut in case you don't want to read how everyone sucks but me.
People who don't wear helmets: This is rule #1. People who don't wear helmets obviously don't know just how easy it is for an accident to happen.
Back before I had any sort of passion about the hobby, when we first moved to Denver, we went up to the mountains for some downhill action. The ski slopes become perfect downhill trails in summer and you can ride the lift to the top rather than kill yourself climbing. We went twice, and both times I had pretty big spills (I blame them on renting bikes that didn't fit me properly). The first time we were toodling along on the Girl Scout trail or something equally innocuous sounding. A section of trail was closed for maintenance with a small diversion onto a more difficult trail. I thought I was handling it just fine, but I hit a rock the wrong way and suddenly was airborne straight over my handlebars.
Somewhere mid-air my martial arts training from college kicked in and I automatically tucked into a somersault, landing unharmed (I was also wearing a helmet). My friend Becky, who was behind me, said it was the best looking fall she'd ever seen. The bike didn't fare as well however, and had to be carried the rest of the way down the mountain.
My point is, it doesn't take much, and no one plans to go over their bars.
I saw a woman in Cherry Creek, bare-headed, with a Camelbak water pack that could easily have cost twice as much as a decent helmet. Sweetie, blunt head trauma will mess you up faster than dehydration, I promise you. Yes, Cherry Creek is pretty tame in comparison to downhill mountain trails, but you just never know what might happen.
People who pass you who probably shouldn't: The rules of biking are not so different from the rules of driving, yet people get on a bike and act like it's a free-for-all (perhaps this is how they drive too).
Which is why I felt more than a little irked by this guy. I was aware he was behind me. Then I realized he was coming up alongside me to pass. I glanced over -- he looked like a construction worker on his way home, no helmet and a beat-up old bike. He was passing, but barely; we rode neck and neck for a good 3-4 minutes.
He finally pulled ahead of me, but barely. He came to a stop at the intersection at the park entrance, where I hardly ever stop on weekdays because there's very little traffic entering and 90% of the time the light favors us. First he created a nice bottleneck there, blocking not just me but two racers crossing towards us. Then he tiptoed across the intersection erratically, not giving me any room to get around him.
On the other side, he kept up the bobbing and weaving, side to side all over the path but barely a foot in front of me. This is not courtesy. I finally snarled, "TO YOUR RIGHT" and passed him, breaking free easily and leaving him in the dirt.
Just like in a car, if you aren't going measurably faster than me, either deal with sitting behind me or wait until you've saved up enough energy and pass me on a clear, flat stretch. I'm not Lance Armstrong. I don't have to be in front. But my god, two wheels or four, don't pass me and then go slower than me. Clueless or just an asshole? Who knows.
Conversely, one day I got behind a wizened little old man. He had scrawny little arms and legs, looked arthritic if not palsied on the bike. I hope to still be having adventures on Rogue when I'm his age.
The point is, I would have passed him except we were coming up on what I knew to be a long, steady hill that kicks my ass. So I hung back, drafting him silently for a good ten minutes or so.
Finally I made my move near the top, knowing it was going to level out soon. He looked over at me and said apologetically, "This is a tough hill!"
"I know," I reassured him sympathetically. "That's why I was in no hurry to pass you!"
Common courtesy. It's not so common.
People who don't fit their bikes: The hot new thing is these cruiser-style bikes with tall, chopper-like handlebars that people have to stretch upward to hold. They look uncomfortable as hell, but I've never ridden one so I can't say. They also look better suited for grocery shopping in Amsterdam than sharing the road with triathletes in training, but there we are.
What bugs me is people on bikes that are too small for them. Big tall guys crammed onto bikes that look a half size too small. I saw a guy all togged out in professional-looking racing gear, who had to lift his knees at sharp 45-degree angles off to the side just to pedal. He looked like he was riding his teenage daughter's bike, and that's just wrong in so many ways.
I blame this on people buying bikes at Target and Walmart, where no one knows the importance of proper bike sizing (see "people who don't wear helmets" above).
People who insist on taking up the whole path: Like bikers who insist on riding side by side so they can chat with their friend (I only want Ryan beside me when the road is extra wide). Or Mr. Bob and Weave above, who can't control his driving and becomes an obstacle for everyone else.
Even worse, smug pedestrians who refuse to move to the side for the three steps it will take me to pass. Yes, pedestrians have the "right of way," but to me I think "right of way" only applies when there's only one way available and two people need it. If it's possible for both to pass comfortably (provided one isn't a stubborn, self-important asshat), then "right of way" doesn't enter into it.
Alright, I'm done being a bitch. I suspect it won't be long before I start snapping at people for making U-turns half a mile ahead of me.
We had the best Fourth of July ever, because it rained almost the entire day and night. Good because it discouraged most of the asshole backyard displays. Good because the ground was nice and wet so we didn't mind the ones that did go off so much. Bad because it means the asshole backyard displays have plenty of left-overs to use the rest of the month.
I had hoped to go to Deer Creek Canyon today, but I learned my lesson about rainy weekends and dirt trails at Barr Lake. Plus I didn't relish the thought of dealing with a bunch of people taking a three-day weekend and flocking to parks statewide.
I hit Cherry Creek instead, and at first thought I'd regret my decision to stay home -- until I reached the side where the wetlands are, and a spot where the path was completely submerged by a 2-inch deep puddle that stretched for about 500 feet. Before realizing how deep it was, the first two pedal strokes sprayed water straight up my back to my neck. By the time that puddle was done with me, my shoes were soaked through to the skin. Which helped me cool down at least, but I get worried about negative effects on Rogue Leader's chain, etc.
If this was what a paved trail looked like, I couldn't imagine what a dirt trail had going on; I absolutely think I made the right decision to avoid it. For once.
