Oceanside, Nevada

Real life in an imaginary place.

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A Brown Trousers Moment

January 31st, 2008 by Wood

So I’m heading south on the 215 and I’m in the center lane doing about 65. There’s a truck to my left and a little ahead of me. The corner of his bumper is maybe six feet off of mine.

Too fast for me to see where he came from, this idiot on a rice rocket screams between us and gets in front of me. I figure he was probably doing 90 or so, fast enough that he had to sit up to shed enough speed to keep from going through the rear window of the car ahead of him.

I didn’t start thinking of him as a fucktard though until he shifted lanes again and wheelied the bike. Fucktard boy then stands on the pegs and puts a foot up on the seat and rides that way for, oh, maybe 200 feet before dropping back down on two wheels and cutting across three lanes to make the Decatur exit.

I’m no adrenaline junkie but I have no problem with them as are. You want to stunt it up, fine. But when you pull that shit in moderate to heavy traffic you’re not just endangering yourself, you’re risking the life and limb of dozens of other people who don’t have your reflexes or steely resolve. In other words, you’ve just represented your sport with all the ambassadorial skill of a hunter who pays to shoot hand raised game released at his feet.

Way to go, asshole.

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