Just this morning, I was riding down Santa Monica Blvd in Santa Monica for just 4 blocks or so until I could cut over back into a residential area. I just claimed the right-most lane to myself, since that lane is really for buses anyway and traffic wasn’t that heavy.

I hear a car approaching behind me, then immediately hear the car honk, then a lady jams on the gas and passes around me all quick and dangerous. I did a non-aggressive gesture with one hand, sort of a half-shrug like “what?” and I could see she was looking at me in her rear-view.

She flipped the bird SO QUICK, she was so angry and ready to express it to me. I know she wasn’t behind me for more than a few seconds before she lost her patience and had honked.

I didn’t really get upset back at her, I just thought about what an angry person she must be, she already had that anger stored up in her, and I was just one of many possible targets for her anger. I guess I can understand, driving in LA makes me pretty angry too, haha.

Then I just started giggling to myself because her “bird” was so tiny, the style of middle-fingering was like clenched fist with the tiniest tip of a middle finger poking out of her fist, and I started having an imaginary dialog in my head about how her “bird” and how she couldn’t get it up. Bird Eeerectile Dysfunction.

I feel bad for that lady, she’s not enjoying her life, you know? It was a BEAUTIFUL day today, and I was smiling my whole ride to work, she was hating it, breathing in her recycled air coming through the vents of her car, not smelling all the flowers that are in bloom, having trouble getting her bird up — I know that shit was embarrassing for her.

Thanks for the comments Jim C!!

That actually made me realize that I didn’t know enough about Ghandi, so I did some research. Now, I could look at her and say, “because Ghandi was a lawyer.”

Seriously, the next car that threatened my bubble of security, I confronted politely - “excuse me, but you almost killed me back there.” He flipped me the bird and told me to fuck off; he would run me over if he wanted. That tacked about 4 years onto my run of aggression. If you take acts like that, combined with a community keeping you informed of the messenger deaths in major cities, then you can find yourself swimming in a cesspool of hate and dread; sometimes anticipating the fact that you’re now going to have to confront the drivers and your own emotions each day. I was seriously hit in November - six months after quitting as a 9-year bike messenger. When I started riding again, it wasn’t just anger that gripped me as drivers passed inches from me: it was anxiety attacks - waves of fear. How fragile I had become. It took months of riding and one multi-day tour to regain my confidence; however, I’ll never be able to look at any intersection with the same impunity I once had. Alleycats present a whole new challenge! (As if racing them wasn’t scary enough before…) I almost always wear a helmet these days, too. I plan my routes now - if I want to go someplace new, then I’ll map it out in google and look for the most isolated neighborhoods. I don’t think that I was ever a really bad rider, but I am more cautious these days, and relaxing and enjoying the ride is part of the key. You’ll ride more if you enjoy it, so don’t let drivers get you down. Just be aware that you are sharing the road with people who are probably much dumber and fatter than you are, they’re talking on the phone while passing you and turning without signalling, and they have 3,000 pound weapons… Well, maybe you shouldn’t think that. Stay aware of your surroundings and ride with confidence - you deserve that lane because you’re such a RAD person, and don’t you know it! Being less confrontational leads to better self-esteem, too. Whenever you aggressively hunt down a motorist, you always second-guess the incident for hours, days, and even years. Sometimes the damage you do to cyclists’ image is irreparable…other times you’ll beat yourself up for not ‘keepin’ it real’. I wish I could think of a clever anecdote to tie this all together, but it’s not gonna happen. Whether you face someone else’s mortality (i.e.: the old lady James Singer nearly beat to a pulp), or your own, you wind up in the same place: realizing that life is too short to be pissed off all the time, and hoping that one day we’ll all be able to co-exist without killing each other. Thanks for the site Sally…you rock my world!!!