My Bike's Faster than Your Car

Wednesday these days is a very happy day for me. It's the "beginning of the downhill" of our workouts each week. Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday tend to be pretty grueling, but I always know that by Wednesday, at least the ride will be less intense, if no shorter.

We planned today's ride to be even less intense than usual - a quick 30-min jaunt out the Custis trail followed by a detour into Ballston to stop by our local bike store. Pat needed a new seat post to go with his new aero bars (this really is a "black hole" sport: the more you buy, the more you realize you "need"!). Despite a call-ahead that reassured that the new seat post was in stock, by the time we got there the "other guys" had sold it to another customer. "Last night." Which... something's wrong with the timeline here. no? If the part was sold *last* night, why tell us that you had it *today*? We left somewhat disappointed, not realizing that that would only be surprise number one on this "less intense" ride.

Surprise number two came as we were riding away from the bike shop on our way home. We were headed through the thick of North Arlington, which at 6 o'clock at night gets pretty trafficky and congested. But we were pedaling along, me following along behind Pat, when an engine behind us revved like we had inadvertently ridden onto a race course. Generally, I'm a pretty unflappable city rider - I'm cautious and alert, sure, but I don't mind when cars pass me at a decent clip, I don't insist on having an entire lane all to myself all the time, and so on. But, dude, really... is the revving necessary?

So Pat and I made the requisite comments about how unnecessary that was and all. Then, as we came up on a red light, we noticed the our friend in the silver Nissan "my car doesn't DO gridlock" had gotten caught at the light. I may have said something snide to Pat about how great it was that Mr. Engine Revver had gotten SO far ahead of us, and Pat may have suggested that at the next light, we ride up past him. And we might have done that, which may have been a little bit juvenile. And Pat MAY have said something like, "Wow, your car is SO fast" as we rode by. And the car window MAY have been open.

As I mentioned to Pat after the fact, it might be better, as a rule, to not trash-talk anyone when they're controlling a half-ton of mechanized metal and you have only 10 lbs of aluminum to hand. Because Mr. Nissan? FLIPPED. HIS. LID. I mean, he revved again, which is par for the course, and he tailgated the normal drivers like crazy in his rush to get past us, and he said some sort of lame something insult to Pat as he drove by. Which is all fairly to-be-expected. And then the real surprises started.

Because Mr. Nissan did NOT just then speed off into the sunset like any normal testosterone-fueled human being. No, he felt the need to slow down and PULL HIS CAR OVER to the side of the road. Did I mention that we were in the middle of Arlington at the time? And not just in Arlington, but in Clarendon, which is the yuppie capital of Arlington, as neighborhoods go. He pulled over across from a Whole Foods, and came storming at Pat all movie-style "You want a piece of this?" Across from a Whole Foods, did I mention. There were people everywhere, because it was a beautiful evening, and on beautiful evenings the young and beautiful flock to Clarendon. So Mr. Nissan comes storming at Pat, with Mrs. Nissan SCREAMING at him from the car to stop being an idiot and GET BACK HERE (I think I love Mrs. Nissan). And Pat and I just cruise off to the right, detouring past the Barnes and Noble, the Ben and Jerry's ice cream shop, and the Williams Sonoma (see, I TOLD you) before turning back toward home. By the time we got back to the main road, Mr. Nissan was gone.

I told Pat afterwards that if Mr. Nissan HAD attacked him, I was prepared with all of my dog-fending-off tricks. I planned to squirt him with my water bottle, and if that didn't work, go after him with my pump. (And if THAT didn't work, memorize his license plate.) But seriously, can you imagine if he HAD... what? I don't even know. Had a fight with Pat? What do you say to the police? "But officer, he SAID my CAR was FAST!" "OK, sir, I understand, but in this society, that's not a good reason to HIT people. Or to stop your fast car to assault a guy on a bicycle, for heaven's sake."

I never knew that you could spell "Anger Management Problem" N-I-S-S-A-N. The surprises never end.

Tomorrow I head out to California for just less than a week on a combo business/wedding planning trip. Either I will blog ALL THE TIME due to boring hotel evenings, or hardly at all. So don't panic if you don't hear from me. Unless... are there a lot of crazies in silver Nissans in Monterey?

When I get back, remind me to tell you about my new BIKE WHEELS! They're so awesome; I barely feel worthy to ride on them.