What Am I Missing?

Maybe it's me, but I just don't get the attitude some road cyclists carry along with their ridiculously over-priced mules. When I'm down at the motocross track, I don't care if a guy's turning fifty second laps or five minute laps, chances are he's gonna be cool if you walk up to him off the track and introduce yourself.

Wish I could say the same for the "serious" cyclists I notice in Central Park.

Like I said, though, maybe it's just me, and I mean that. Maybe it's just the clowns in Central Park who are getting on my nerves day after day.

When I first began riding, more than enough guys with top-shelf helmets, colorful jerseys, and expensive carbon fiber bikes (not to mention the shaved legs, which is a route I will never take) would pass me on the park's loop. Being new to the sport, I made it a habit--albeit an incredibly short-lived habit--to glance over and say hello. Nothing elaborate, just a quick nod of the head and, "How's it going?"

Usually, the response included a look fitting for the filthiest of the homeless, as if I had just asked the passing cyclist if he'd mind sharing his wife/girlfriend in bed.

These cyclists, they're an odd bunch to say the least. Regardless, I no longer bother with the pleasantries although in the event someone has a hello for me, I'll be sure to open my mouth and make the effort to say hi in return.

Further, maybe I have been riding motocross too long, because my attitude toward the cyclists behind me is basically, "You've got brakes. Learn how to use them." What I mean is, if I have to swerve a few feet to the left or right to avoid a pothole, a kid, or a jogger, I don't feel like listening to some jackass behind me yelling, "On your right! On your right!" You know what, buddy? Shut your mouth and hit the brakes. If I feel like sliding from one side of the lane to the other, I guess you're just going to have to deal with that, aren't you?

Perfect example. Last night, I get in Central Park not long after 6:30 which means cars are still permitted. On the uphill approach to the 92nd Street intersection (at least I think it's 92nd Street), the light turned red just as a cop in a scooter pulled up behind me. Recently, city officials have been contemplating banning cycling in the park, so I thought, Let me slow it down rather than blow through this red light while there's a cop right on my ass. In doing so, I drifted to the right several feet to avoid some crossing pedestrians when immediately I hear one of those stereotypical dickheads I've just described above start yelling, "On your right! On your right!"

See what I'm saying about the brakes? Learn how to use 'em. I really don't give a flying f#ck if I messed up this guy's drive/momentum. Also, when I've got the inside line going into a corner, I'll go as wide as I please on the exit. If you don't like me moving over on you, too bad. You've got brakes. Learn how to use 'em. I'll worry about what's going on in front of me, let alone what's behind me.