So you are this totally-devoid-of -imagination person riding your bike on the side walk on Hampshire Street in Cambridge. Okay, so you are on the sidewalk. I don't care. Be on the sidewalk for all I mind. But do not, I say, do not mutter under your breath, the words "On your right". whilst coming up silently behind an obiously overweight late middle aged woman who is doin her best to lumber along at a pace that would put a snail to shame. What? Do you think these words are magical? Do you think everyone can hear what you are thinking, but barely saying? And all this while riding on the sidewalk where no one expects to meet you and your confounded bicycle?
And another thing, (one of my favorite expressions) not every single living thing is blessed with the ability to tell their right from their left. By the time I can make out the words, uttered quietly in your youthful tremor, all I can really do is to get down into a protective crouch as you pedal by on your strong young legs. On the sidewalk!
"On your right, on your left". This is real hip bicycle rider talk for "get the fuck out of my way slowboy." Well, not only did you scare the freakin' daylights out of me, you caused me to lose my Zen attitude.
May you develop a strange neurological condition that causes you to only be able to bike at 0.1 miles an hour. One that makes you slow down and make sure that YOU don't hit the old lady on the sidewalk.
May you live and be well.
Love,
Jeanne
ps What is your mother's phone number. I might have to give her a ding-a-ling.
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