5YUC776 is the license plate number of a red, 3-series BMW whose driver intended to kill, mame, or scare the three of us on our Easter Sunday morning ride en route to Nicasio. I felt it was because the driver wasn’t aware of the width of his or her vehicle, as once it passed me, practically grazing me, I might add, it remained driving over the white line until it reached Miguel. But my other riding companions felt it was intentional.
So I saw the car parked in Nicasio. Could it be they were on their way to the Easter Sunday church service? At a minimum, they had to be on their way to brunch. Is this their way to feel closer to Jesus?
I don’t understand what gives drivers the message that being “inconvenienced” by someone gives them license to threaten or take away other people’s lives. Do you threaten to shoot people in the supermarket? I’m always reading letters-to-the-editor by angry drivers who might be nice people otherwise, but who made them God, I want to know. What gives them the right to decide of others should live and die? Just because they drive a car? Like, who doesn’t?
Please, all drivers reading this: I drive a car, too, and I bet I drive better than you. Funny thing, for some reason, although I am a superior driver to almost anyone, when I see cyclists, I think, I don’t want to scare them. I want them to live and lead happy lives! I have always proceded around cyclists with caution, and this is long before I ever owned a road bike myself.
This is because I am a superior driver. I respect the laws of motion. I challenge anyone out there, unless your name is Gary Thomason, that you drive better than I do (I’m not talking about people who autocross, but my hunch is that autocrossers know better). If you’re some know-it-all driver reading this who feels justified terrorizing cyclists, back it up. Prove that you even know how to drive. Come within three seconds of me at an autocross.
You in that red BMW, you are not worthy of German engineering. You have no concept of the width of your car, and I bet it’s an automatic. If not, I bet you’ll burn through a clutch in a year. You’re that kind of driver. I bet you brake going into turns. You would probably be better off riding a bicycle, where you might learn some common sense.
I wanted to call the police, but Miguel told me to move on. Richard suggested we scratch a note on the car, in its beautiful red paint. We realized this was a joke, after maybe ten seconds, and carried on to the Bovine Bakery.
We rode for 5+ hours yesterday. Miguel won the sprint to Pt. Reyes Station, but Richard and I used calculating teamwork to win the sprint back to Nicasio (we were too freaked to ride through Samuel P. Taylor Park). Miguel was not aware that there was a sprint to Nicasio. This helped. I let up to use the restrooms, and Miguel “counter attacked.” We did not see him again ’til the top of White’s Hill, miles and miles later, when he explained that’s what he was doing.
“You can’t counter after the finish line,” Richard told him.
“What finish line? There was no finish line,” said Miguel.
“Back at the school house. Everyone knows that’s where the finish is.”
Great. This means that Miguel’s going to win every sprint. But I’d take that any day over meeting 5YUC776 again.