Ok, so now that I've calmed down, I can write this like the intelligent, rational, human being I am. Had this been a couple of hours ago, this would have been a swear-laden, x-rated post, bound to turn away any of the loyal readership I've collected. So here is the PG version of what happened to me out on a bike ride today:
So this afternoon, as planned, I headed out for a nice hilly 3 hour ride. The weather here has been pretty muggy and rainy, but today the weather turned cool and the sun was out-perfect for riding. So I finish my morning clients by twelve, take a quick nap, get on my gear and head out the door on the bike. The first twenty mile or so were nothing short of super. Cool air, no traffic, and plenty of nice rolling hills. Until it hit me-literally! Coming up one of my favorite climbs (I dare to call it a climb as it only goes on for about 2 and 1/2 miles-you guys in Colorado and California are probably laughing at me right now:-) ), I was hit in the side of the head with eggs and a cup of coke from a passing car! WTF!!!!???? All over my back and the side of my face were sticky cola and egg yolk! Not to mention my poor Cervelo! My dear sweet bike had this sh*t all over it!
Now I'll get to the part that pisses me off, but first a little history about yours truly. When I was in highschool, I was TERRIFIED of any physical interaction. I would go out of my way to avoid anyone even being mildly agitated at me. I was a little fat, porky kid, afraid of his own shadow. Then I found sports, namely ice hockey and lacrosse, that made a tough guy out of me. From There it was on to college, where I played lacrosse and found a job bouncing at one of the local bars near campus. This is where I got my first taste of fighting. Basically I learned that it doesn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it did to take a punch to the face. After college, I got into Brazillian Jiu Jitsu, boxing, and Mixed Martial Arts (Ultimate Fighting). And guess what? Not only did I really start to like fighting, but I found I was actually pretty good at it!
Ok, so I tell you all this to get to my point. Do I condone fighting? No. If it's in a ring and for sport, I think there is no purer compitition. However, in the street, it's one of the dumbest things you can do. In just about every situation, there's a way around it-except for this one! Getting cheap shotted, whether by an egg and a soda, a fist, or whatever, is clear grounds for throwing down. If you hit me when I'm not looking, you better be ready to throw hands with me, otherwise, I have no respect for you, or the punks you're rolling with.
So these douchebags in the car that threw stuff at me are the true definition of Punk Ass B*tches. As they drove off, I screamed for them to come back. At least give me the respect to come back and fight me. I have no problem getting my hands dirty every now and then, especially, as I said before, if I'm cheap shotted. So to me, they are (excuse the language) pussies of the highest order.
There are two very definate realities you have to face when you cheap shot someone:
1) Are you sure your ready to fight? and
2) Do you know how to fight? Because I do and if you and your friends don't, it's really not going to end well for you.
Ok, enough said about the worlds biggest va-j-j's. Sorry for the derogitory term, but that's just how I'm feeling right now. I told you this is the PG version, not the G version. So anyway, the rest of the ride was great. With my new-found anger, I was able to fight the fatigue from yesterday in my legs and really get some good miles in. The only bad part was the egg smell, but hey, it can't all be daisy's and daffodills now can it?
Ok, I'm off to finish up with my last client.
Push 'till ya puke...Always.