Dear NYC Drivers,
I'm sure most of you are good people who are not out looking to do bad things to other good people. But somehow I attract the other drivers. Every goddamn day I have a confrontation with one of you who can't seem to understand that I have just as much right to use the roads as you do. Maybe my problem is that I don't just get out of your way as soon as you ride up behind me and honk. Maybe my problem is that my usual response to that behavior is to give you the finger or, if I can manage, whack your side mirror out of place. These acts are meant to be perceived as a message that you have done something wrong, possibly dangerous, to me and not as an invitation for you to get out of your car and beat me up. Granted you were four fratty white guys, probably in various states of inebriation, in some kind of silver car and I was a regular guy on a red Schwinn Racer with a messenger bag and a funny hat. I'm sure you had a big old laugh at my expense after you jumped back in your car a peeled away while I was still lying on pavement, unable to get your full license plate number. For once, the police sympathised with me and agreed that drivers in this city have no respect at all for cyclists. All I want to know is, what Earth did I do to make you hate me so much that you felt the need to get all get out of your car an pound your fists into my head? Wouldn't the usual "stay off the road faggot!" yelled out the window have been a sufficient reprimand for my egregious behavior? Well it's pretty lucky for you that all four of you participated in the beatdown because had only one or two of you gotten out of the car, my Kryptonite chain might have made you wish you'd stayed in it. All I can say is, I'd like to see if you have the guts to ride a bike in this city, during the winter. Good luck, you suck.