Saturday, May 02, 2009

Super Cop

Today I experienced the antidote to Officer McBreakfast Taco.

I was riding my normal training route in and through the Woodlands and was proceeding along a side street with plenty of room for both car and cyclist. I was politely and safely passed by three cars/SUVS in a row. Maybe it was the ginourmously visible yellow, safe passing jersey:



Or maybe it was the blinky light that can be seen from space.



But apparently, this was not enough for a dumb sh*t motorist that I will call "Frat Boy"--you know the type--20 something, hipster side burns, too sexy for my baseball cap/God's-gift-to-babes self-image, and get-off-the-road and ride-on-the-sidewalk-faggot attitude.

Frat Boy, in his black Nissan, four cylinder-fake-sports-car with his nicotine habbit, tried to force me out of the lane and squeeze by to get to the upcoming traffic light. And this right after three other cars had passed properly and given me nearly the whole lane. Bad move, Frat Boy, because see, you have to stop at the traffic light, and I'm going to give you an unwanted education on the traffic laws. I've got sweatshirts older than you, Sparky. And if you want to go, you'll wind up in jail and bankrupt, because that's how it works when you go with the legal beagle. And if you're rude, you're also going to get a piece of my mind. And because today is today, I've got another surprise for you. (You'll see).

Of course, he was rude. Of course, he told me to "get out of the road." (Any of this sounding familiar?) Of course, he let go some F-bombs and called me a faggot. I asked Frat Boy if he'd like to discuss this with a police officer right then and there. He (having quickly run through his limited vocabulary) told me to F off, and get the F out of his way and get my hand off his f-ing car because I was a faggot, blah blah blah.

But Frat Boy miscalculated, and I was so emboldened because I was thinking ahead. You see, all those cyclists in the Woodlands today were doing a triathlon. (Not me, I was just training). And that meant nearly every intersection was blinking red with one lane blocked off and a line of cars waiting to get through an intersection controlled by at least three police officers. So, while Frat Boy waited in the line of cars (evil laugh here), I biked 400 yards up the shoulder to the next group of police officers, told the officer in charge that there was a motorist in the line who needed an education on the traffic laws and maybe a ticket as well because he had tried to squeeze me out of the lane with his automobile and then threatened me.

And I was standing there with my new-found friends in law enforcement (wearing my "I'ts the Law" jersey) as Frat Boy approached the intersection. And I identified his sorry a$$ for the four officers controlling traffic. And he saw me identify his sorry a$$. And I watched as the officers directing traffic ordered Frat Boy to turn into the parking lot where they intended to have a little talk about what the law requires and how grownups are required to behave when they are behind the wheel of a deadly weapon.

Go ahead, Frat Boy.

Make. My. Day.


***After Action Report***

Things I wish I had done:

1. Should have photographed his license plate and his face. I carry a camera for just such a purpose. The first thought should be to go for the camera and the cell phone. Bullies are cowards when they've been called out of their vehicles and identified.

2. I wish I had brought my laminated copy of the traffic laws to toss in his open window as I spit on his car and rode away to taunt him into trying to attack me in front of the officers so they'd put him in jail.

OK, that's not exactly true, but it's a nice fantasy.

13 comments:

Fe-lady said...

But the things that you DID do were fantastic! Maybe he will think twice now about approaching faggot-cyclists....
(I love spitting on people's cars btw.)

greyhound said...

Nice.

Coach Tammy said...

You are my hero!!

I won't tell you the conversation I had with a bad motorist last night.... cuz I was riding home from the Draughthouse, where I was emboldened by 2 pints of Mirror Pond Pale Ale. There might have been a F-bomb involved... by one party or another. ;)

IronMatron said...

That is cool.
I only fantasize about doing something like that. I have a hard time even giving dirty looks to frat boys in their faux sports cars dragging on their butts. This is b/c usually said boys are whistling and hooting and sticking tongues through their v-d index and middle fingers and asking if I'd like to ride -
It's pleasant.
So thanks for taking one down.

Greyt Times said...

Love it. Absolutely LOVE IT!

Trishie said...

You ROCK!! Gah, what a d-bag. Unforch, I know the type all too well (they ALL workout at my gym... waxed chests, super tight tshirts, grunting and dropping weights). Good for you for stading up for cyclists everything. Thank you.

CoachLiz said...

Wow!

And I thought that it was some weird that I had a strange sense of calm wash over me yesterday morning as I was standing on the bridge on Lake Woodlands Dr.

I chalked it up to watching everyone else race while I just rang a cowbell. But now I see that it was my special Ironman 6th sense alerting me that there was good being done in the cycling world and some a-hole motorist was getting their due.

Thank you Greyhound for proving that truth, justice, and the American way will keep our city safe from A-Hole Frat Boys.

Ryan said...

Sweet revenge!

Benson said...

Very good of you.
Great example for cyclists to follow.
Also nice to know that the police helped with frat-boys education.

Kim said...

awe.some.

you are my hero of cycling.

Runner Leana said...

Good for you! I'm so glad he was given a lesson. Drivers like that drive me nuts!!

Nytro said...

the laminated laws is brilliant. must remember to do something like that in the future. i usually just catch up to the driver, and hold my forefinger and thumb reeeeaaaallllyyyyy close together. usually they get my point.

Nytro said...

btw... cgs told me that she loved this post. thought you should know.. you have a new fan.

she has no idea what she's in for, does she?