Letter to the Biker Who Ran Me Over Today

Thanks, I needed that. It really put a solid cap on my day. Here's a little heads up for next time: watch where you are going. Oh wait, I should have been more careful, you say? F that. I looked both ways when crossing the street. You came flying out of nowhere at Mach 2. Congrats, you're the new land speed record holder for the Central Park loop. You also have a scraped knee. Was it worth it? I hope it was, because I'm going to have a bruise on my ass for the next week.

When you say you are "Okay" after I apologize for getting hit by you, don't chase after me claiming that I didn't stop to see how you were. Ummm, when did "Are you all right?" start to not count as checking on your condition? I can only go by what you give me. And an "I'm okay" sounds like a positive response to me. You ran into me. Don't forget that key fact. Am I blameless? Yes, probably. But, I'll throw you a bone and split the fault 50-50. How about asking if I'm injured? A little common courtesy from you would have been appreciated. Instead, you were too busy harassing me for the simple act of jogging across the street. There's only one way I'm getting over there, kind sir. I really wish I had paid attention to what color the light was at the stop. It would have been so sweet if it had been red. Then you would have really deserved the scraped knee.

By the way, you might want to invest in a bell when you go get your "trashed $500 bike" fixed.

Enough venting. I'm going to have enough trouble falling asleep tonight with the skid mark on my right ass check.

Good to know that this isn't an isolated incident. Had I written the following article in New York Magazine, the title would have been something along the lines of "Asshole Bikers Don't Give a Shit About Anyone Else." It's probably better that the editors went with a less easily agitated author.

From NY Mag: Who Owns Central Park