...when I run over your hoody-wearing, bike-pant hugging ass.
Let's begin again. This morning I was driving down a dead end street and turning around in a cul-de-sac at work. On the right, as I approached the turnaround, was a field, straight ahead was a large metal barrier, and on the left was the entrance to the local generic version of Cross-Fit. As I made my circular turn, a woman in her late 50's ran down the Cross-Fit driveway and into the cul-de-sac, not breaking her stride, then she shook her fist at me like I had done something wrong. She continued down the street in the center of the right lane. As I passed her on the left, she screamed something at me. I was tempted to run her over, but her DNA would have been splattered across my work vehicle....
This little incident is turning into a bit of a trend in my workday. Workout warriors seem to be more aggressive lately. I drive down the same street everyday for work, and Cross-Fitters prefer the street to the sidewalk. I assume that since it's a dead end street, that that's part of their "course."
I can kind of see their rationale, not a lot of traffic down that street, but it leads me into one of my biggest pet peeves in life. THE BIKE PATH.
The Cleveland Metroparks is nicknamed the Emerald Necklace because it's a green park area that circles the city of Cleveland. (Get the Visual?) I don't know, must have been a generation ago, the Metroparks spent millions of dollars to put a bike path next to the road. The novelty of the Bike Path seemed to wear off quickly, because when I go through the Metroparks today, I see a lot of kids and joggers on the Bike Path, and a lot of "professional" bicyclists on the road. Apparently the bicyclists don't want to be slowed down by the sluggish pace on the path. (Oh the irony.)
What I'm getting at is this. I think those hard-core training athletes secretly have a death wish. They think that they're going to live forever, but the emptiness in their lives because they're always working out makes their long life a long, lonely torture. You've heard of Suicide by Cop, I anticipate a new category entering the American Lexicon, Road Rage Ruin. Thousands of competitive people, feeling invincible, thinking they can dictate to cars, trucks, and busses, getting run over because their minds are overwhelmed by endorphins.....
Yeah, sometimes my articles have no point. Today Hugh Hefner died and I was sad on a number of levels.
Hef was a Free Speech champion. Hef gave a platform for fascinating interviews.
I think Playboy is bleeding money and I think Hef's death will kill the magazine (and possibly the brand.)
I know I'm a dope, but I watched some of the reality show The Girls Next Door. I feel bad for Holly Madison. She seemed to genuinely love him. (Or maybe not.)
Despite being a pornographer, you heard nary a poor word said about Hef today.
Natural cause at 91 with his lifestyle? Talk about dodging bullets.
-Link to very interesting 1962 Miles Davis interview in Playboy.-