I highly doubt he ‘asked’ the kids to get out of his way, especially if it was who I think it was.

A few weeks ago, a truck from Brighton Towing pushed me into the curb while I was traveling in the bike lane in the Brookline end of Harvard St., southbound. When we reached a red light, I hollered ‘Too Close’, at the driver, as I am wont to do when speedy parasites infringe upon my lanespace. When he caught up with me again, he swerved into the bike lane ON PURPOSE this time, screaming out the window. Assault with a deadly tow truck, I’d call that. Anyway, I found out his name is Jay, via calling the number ON HIS TRUCK. Idiot.

Seems someone got their just desserts at Brighton Towing, probably for following this same driving/public relations pattern. I really hope it was our good friend Jay. Karma is a dirty bitch, and I buy her a whole lot of drinks.

In response to this post in Boston Biker.

“there’s nothing we can do about drivers not paying attention.”

from the follow-up article

People often ask me why I’m so hard on drivers, and why I am so ruthless on the road – quick to find fault, quick to use my schoolyard bellow and let people know what an ass they’re being. Frankly, this is why. We have no other power. I have been hit by an Audi, called the cops and had them tell me ’sorry, but there’s nothing we can do’. I’ve been hit by a bus and told, ‘this driver has worked for the MBTA for over 19 years, we are confident that she is a competent driver’. I have had a woman reach out her passenger side window and grab me by my helmet and SLAP me, AND I STILL DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE WAS SO UPSET ABOUT. I wasn’t hurt in any of these instances, so apparently they are not offenses that matter to police or the general public. I ride safely, I wear my helmet and I obey the law insofar as I try to never inconvenience another person on the road, but I know that if I am hit, harassed, assaulted or verbally abused, I have no way to bring justice to the people that have abused me with their aggression, negligence and outright ignorance. I can do nothing at all to call attention to abusive, aggressive or negligent drivers unless I am injured, but alive. Even if I AM alive to tell the tale, there is no guarantee I will be able to catch the plate number of the vehicle if they speed off (as the Audi did, after the operator screamed, “I should run you off the road!”). We are riding naked, and there is no one on our side. This is why I have no mercy for the people that take the privilege of driving for granted – I have no other choice. Out there on the road, no other voice is speaking up for us.

Typical. It rained cats, dogs and dinosaurs on my morning commute and now, the sun is out. My poor office chair has a huge wet butt-print in it. I’m going to be soaked for the rest of the day. It could be worse, though. I could be on fire.

The germs finally caught up with me. Damn you, Catarpillar Cholera!! I guess it’s going to be a cozy night of House, Hot Toddys and extra blankets. At least it’s not raining today.

I prefer more expensive alchohol than Jim Beam, though. Blech!

I almost called in sick to work today, owing to the fact that all my friends have tried to give me the sheep shingles, or the buffalo buboes, or whatever the fuck virus is going around right now. Coyote crabs. Seal scabies. Rhinoceros Rickets. Viper vapors. But try as I might, I simply could not get my temperature to go above 96.8. Damn this superior Germanic constitution of mine.

Anyone who knows me can tell you I loathe children of all ages. I also think, and feel free to disagree with me here, that bike seats for toddlers are possibly the worst idea ever. And those things they make to attach an extra seat and pedals to a large bike just don’t work that well, and frankly just look super dumb. What I saw today on my ride, though, hit me with a wave of nostalgia for my own misspent youth, and the days when Dadoo Climbout was teaching me how to ride my own bike.
A woman on a hybrid, dressed in dour work attire with appropriately ugly safety helmet approached mass ave. cautiously from a cross street. Following along behind her looked like nothing less than her double in slight miniature, but of the opposite sex. She stopped and waited for the light, and when the green was in her favor, motioned for her obvious progeny to proceed along behind her. I was forcibly reminded of a mother goose leading her goslings across a busy street. It was pretty fucking adorable, and it was exactly right. This shining parental example almost makes up for the woman I saw jaywalking against rush hour traffic yesterday dragging her special little snowflake along by the arm, both obviously bound for ballet class. Chalk it up to bad parenting, little ballerina, if you end up ruining your dancing career after a tragic incident involving an SUV, a latte, and an errant text message. I’m a horrible person.

Just an FYI: I didn’t reverse the digits – I just have a naturally low body temp. Fo realz!