...at trackstanding. I know you didn't think that when you rolled up from behind me at this here red light. You peered out from underneath your flat-brimmed Yankee cap and saw the bright flashing taillight, the grocery panniers stuffed to capacity hanging off the rear rack, the beat-down Ritchey mountain bike I've flogged through two winters, and me perched atop it all like Granny from 'The Beverly Hillbillies' in the back of the jalopy cruising down Rodeo Drive, with my pedals leveled, and my front wheel canted slightly as I incrementally roll it back and forth between the two imaginary quarters located immediately before and behind the tire patch which I envision as the best trick yet to keep my feet up for the duration of a traffic light. I get it. You thought I was just another hapless floundering commuter, which was why you thought you had the right to roll up past me and take your rightful place a bike-length-and-a-half in front of me to show me how it was done. Except my feet are still on my pedals, aren't they? And I can see your shoulders starting to hunch up underneath your carefully painted Chrome bag because you're tensing up your arms and forgetting to breathe as you're beginning to wonder how long this goddamned light is gonna BE, man? Well, I can tell you that this intersection's red lasts for about twenty-five seconds and I'm not literally going to say it to you, but lemme just ease forward here and pull up alongside you as though I was so I can show you something else: I'm still up on my pedals. And you've just shrugged and dropped one foot to the ground.
And while I realize that in the grand scheme of things losing an impromptu trackstand comp is quite an insignificant thing, here's the greater lesson: don't be a dick. Pass another cyclist when you're both in motion. Don't just roll up in front like you've got the right to do so, because you don't. Ain't anybody ever issued a go-to-the-head-of-the-line pass. It's just rude, and - aw, hell. There you go. Knew you were gonna do that. Saw you put one foot back on the pedal, head swiveling around, looking for a gap in traffic. Red's only gonna last six more clicks, fool! But no, out you go, found your shot and you're clear, but you didn't see that oncoming car have to tap its brakes to let you through, didn't see the driver shaking his head in disgust at yet another 'damn biker', didn't see me doing the same.
Good job, my man. Putting your foot down made you look bad. Putting your foot back on made us all look bad. It's more than just trackstands, son - I am better than you.
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