Today I saw a guy wearing a "Russia" kit. $10 says he bought it from Performance, selling some imitation national team kits or the like. But amazing how quickly I defaulted to "tsk, tsk, how dare he wear Russia colors in America!" The last time I remember feeling that way was about when American Flyers was in the theaters.
|Marcus (Costner) takes on Belov in the Hell of the West. Love those|
biceps. And that helmet.
And on Tuckerman Lane riding into Bethesda a woman very nearly ran down P__. The woman was pulling out of a side-street in her CRV; P__ was riding ahead and curb-side of me; and we both noticed at the last second the woman making her move before we were clear. I yelled, P__ yelled, the woman stopped, P__ gassed it just enough to keep her wheel out from under the bumper. I was right next to the near-collision, and it was inches.
It went south from there, of course. P__ continued up the street a short ways, but this lady was not continuing on her way that easily. Perhaps my funniest move was popping a wheelie up onto the hood of her car to get her to stop.
"I don't care if you are sorry."
"Are you going to beat me up?"
"I'm not going to beat anybody up. I want you to go home and keep off the road so the rest of us can make it home safely."
To her credit, she handled getting yelled at with relative equanimity. The one line that visibly shocked her?
"My problem is you and all the other old biddies thinking you can threaten the rest of us just by getting behind the wheel."
I guess some people just don't like being called old biddies.
I've ridden Tuckerman dozens of times. It's a road with plenty of cars driving plenty fast and there is no shoulder for bikes. I was worried about taking P__ there; near misses are part of the sport, but when you ride <1000 miles in a year they affect you very differently.