So I’m locking up my trusty steed at my bank today and I hear some guy dropping F-bombs like a B-52 over Vietnam.
Look out beloooow!!
Before I turned around to see what all the fuss was about I began to get a bit insulted (I’m kinda proper that way). When I looked, what I saw was this dude in one of those huge pick-up trucks that seats 8 comfortably and has a 92 foot long bed. He was attempting to manuver it into a rather tight parking spot.
I watched him for a bit and probably scowled a little at his choice of language. But basically being a coward I didn’t say anything and attempted to shrink as he waked by.
When I did look up, he was right there. We made eye contact, he glared at me and said…”I should be on one of those fucking bicycles! Then I wouldn’t have trouble parking”.
I just grinned. And secretly agreed. As I was riding away I thought to myself, “This’ll make a good post”.
Till later,
Jacque – Out
P.S. I’ve got a couple of posts in the hopper. Surprisingly enough they’re all about bicycling. A review of the new route to work and one about the ride home. In keeping with my preference of only one post per day ya’ll will just have to wait.
You ever think of the perfect thing to say right after it’s all over? Here’s mine: “But then the ladies would see your tiny penis.”
That exceeds the coward quotient. I’ll stick to going into burning buildings.
You didn’t offer to trade your bike for his land yacht?
Nahh, it was one of those work truck looking things. It probably had a bunch of dials and gauges that would confuse me.
I had a similar experience when an obese woman at the bus depot pointed at me on my bike and yelled “Is that why you’re so damn skinny?”
Thank you, Wikipedia, for getting right to the point on the meaning of ‘F-bomb’.
Wikipedia is the ultimate source on EVERYTHING. The only thing more accurate is the M5