Black Bandanna Day.
Cars made me angry today, “isolating weapons of ignorance and destruction” I called them.
It started when a brand new red Mustang convertible shot past me on a road through campus. I overtook them shortly as they (generously) decided not to mow down a pedestrian in the crosswalk. As we both approached an intersection they pulled a sharp right in to the bike lane, cutting me off. They hadn’t signaled, and I had to stop so suddenly that I almost flew off my bike and into their backseat. “Use your fucking turn signals!” I (generously) advised. I saw them run a stop sign and fail to signal twice more on their way to wherever-the-fuck they so badly needed to be.
Rolling through the dorm parking lot I counted 17 monster trucks. I do not lie, 17 trucks consisting of a regular pickup/SUV frame, mounted atop oversize suspensions and wheels half as tall as me. To drive such a beast is not only absolutely inappropriate in Chico, but it almost always means the driver is a douche-bag who could care less about laws based on public safety. In such a truck, a driver is practically invincible on the road, and tends to act like it.
Twice more in the day, on my way to and from and in and around campus, I am almost got too intimately familiarized with rolling steel boxes. I’ve grown accustomed to riding in traffic composed of the blind and deaf, but today just brought them all out of the woodwork.
So I’m cranky, I desire violent retribution against the internal-combusters, I don a black bandanna, yet I do nothing. If I had stabbed some tires, poured sugar in a gas-tank, or carved “oil = blood” with my key on someone’s car, it would have provided temporary glee and satisfaction, but I know this would fade into guilt and regret. Ultimately all of my frustration and anger had no effect other than spoiling my own mood.
So what can I do when they so effectively piss me off? A black bandanna helps, but I’d rather be able to stop myself from wasting such emotional energy in the first place.