I'm a widdle sleepy.

Last week at the gym, I ran into one of my former coworkers, and we started working out together and talking about what life has brought us since we last saw each other. In discussing the various things we had experienced, she was very quick to tell me that I do not stand up for myself enough. I thought that was interesting, since I'm really the most obnoxious advocate I know for everyone else, but it's true-- I have difficulty doing things for myself.

Saturday afternoon, I went on a bike ride. These are opportune times for me to reflect on what life brings me, because after the first ten miles or so, the music in my right ear bud turns into background sounds and my mind escapes to a place of pondering. I was in this happy place as I was traveling down 89 through Springville when a van drove by and a 20-something male stuck his head out the window and let out a scream. I jumped (as much as one can jump while in clip in pedals) and nearly fell over, only to look to my left and see the 20-something male throw his head back and laugh. Just ahead was a fork where one road went to Spanish Fork and the other to Mapleton, where I typically head down to Spanish Fork and ride the back roads where there are cows (mmm, cows). The van took a right at the fork toward Mapleton, and then pulled into a parking lot of a pawn shop. I started to go left toward Spanish Fork, then thought about what my friend had said. Cyclists generally are not respected in most communities, and I'm constantly getting honked at and almost hit by cars when the law is on my side, so adding people being obnoxious on top of it was really overkill. I veered right and pulled up to the van in the parking lot, where the ever intelligent individual still had his window rolled down. To paint a better picture, I was wearing dark sunglasses and spandex. See: alien secret service agent. This is how the conversation went (oh, and imagine that I'm speaking like my angry mother):

Me: What part of that was funny?
Ape-man: (Mouth hangs open, stares blankly)
Me: Have you ever fallen off a bike?
Ape-man: (mumbling) No.
Me: Have you ever busted open your jaw and shattered all your back teeth?
Ape-man: (Shakes head)
Me: Are you going to do it again?
Ape-man: (still mumbling, possibly urinating) No. Sorry.

You know that episode of The Office where Pam decides she's going to be honest with Roy and not let people walk all over her, and she corrects the bartender and gets a lite beer instead of what he gives her on accident? Yeah, it kinda felt like that. All that weight lifting combined with my mother's tone of voice (see: satanic) made me quite intimidating. How liberating! No wonder people become violent dictators.

So while it may seem humorous to yell something at a cyclist or drive close enough to spank their spandexed bum (which my landlord apparently has done), you have to realize a few things first.

1. Had I fallen and hurt my bike, he would have had to replace my bike. You may disagree, but I know someone who got people to replace all of his gear because their dog chased him, he got scared, and fell off his bike (which I don't really agree with, but if that's all it takes, verbal harassment/vehicular assault will definitely get you to replace my bike). Retail of my bike: $3250.
2. Had I fallen and hurt myself, he would have been responsible for covering my medical expenses. Being the accident prone person I am, I am more than aware of how much a simple trip to the emergency room costs. Dental bills are really, really expensive, and because of my lack of grace, chances are that I'm going to land on my face and break some teeth. Medical bills from an accident (especially if that accident involves me) can get up to $10,000.
3. Had I fallen and hurt myself, he would have been responsible for covering my mental expenses. In a few short weeks, I will be graduating from BYU and will no longer be eligible for their free therapy, and I know for certain that I am a prime candidate for PTSD. I actually experienced it when I had my last bad crash, which is why Bobby bought me a really nice bike and then had to sell it a month later (ride=serious anxiety attack). He would be responsible for paying for the therapy needed to overcome my anxiety induced by the accident, and let me tell you- therapy is not cheap.
4. The settlement. Now, I'm not really a big fan of the idea of settlements and suing and all that jazz (some of it seems like a quick fix to get some extra cash), but I've been to the emergency room often enough to tell you it's one of the most excruciating experiences one can endure. When the shock wears off, you're just in pain, and then the stuff they inject into the site of the wound to numb the pain hurts worse than whatever it is ailing you, and if you're like me, you need new injections every fifteen minutes because your body absorbs it like a coke fiend. With that in mind, and the fact that I've had a lot of medical expenses (see: debt), I wouldn't mind a dumb person having to help me out because of his ignorance.

Cyclists are harassed often. So consider the four things listed above before being an individual that contributes to that harassment, because if whatever you do results in the cyclist getting hurt, they're probably bitter enough to not cut any slack. Some people on bikes are cocky and don't obey traffic laws, making life miserable for people behind the wheel, but there are those of us who actually do stop at stop signs, signal, and ride as close to the side of the road as we can, so remember us before you decide to take your hard day out on the crazy individual wearing spandex on a too-expensive bike.