So I went downtown with my friends the other day, and we were looking for a parking spot.  We would cruise along the street and see what looked like an empty spot, only to find that it was occupied by a motorcycle.  This is normal for Prescott, and I was only mildly enraged when we saw it.  Then we saw it.  A bike and a trailer, taking up not one, but TWO spots.  I knew, with all my heart, that it was some old bastard who wanted the freedom of the open road but all the convenience of being able to carry his Depends with him. 

This incident highlighted a dark plague that emerges with the warm months, a horrific affliction that affects all traveling Americans.  I’m talking about biker fucks.

 

Now, I’m all for people being able to do whatever they want, within reason, and I can certainly appreciate the urge to go travel abroad with the open air blowing in your face.  It’s a perfectly American thing to do.  The problem is that biker fucks do it on my roads.  I use the term because whether they ride bicycles or motorcycles, they’re a bunch of dirty goddamn sonsabitches.

 

I first started hating biker fucks when I lived in Colorado.  On the rural roads and highways, there aren’t any bike lanes, so cyclists have to go along in the regular traffic lanes.  I always seemed to come across them when there was oncoming traffic, so I had the choice of either ramming the cyclist off the road or swerving into a truck coming the other way so some dick in a spandex shirt could enjoy his hobby.  Nothing has changed since then, either.

 

Here’s my proposed solution for cyclists:

GET OFF MY FUCKING ROAD!

 

 

There has to be some other road or path or something out there that gives the same enjoyment without impeding traffic.  If I’m cruising along in Bumfuck, Utah, and I haven’t seen a car in three hours, and I have to swerve around a random cyclist, no problem. 

But if I’m driving to a ski resort town, through mountains, on windy, cliff-sided roads that are full of potheads and hippies and dipshit Texans, that’s a whole different story.  Because chances are that it’s some yuppie motherfucker who thinks it’s groovy to ride bikes, and he assumes that he has the same right to the road as me.  They won’t squeeze over onto the shoulder like Nature intended, and would rather risk causing a traffic accident than be inconvenienced.

The only time I really get pissed at bikers is when they exist.  I hate seeing the retired bikers cruising along in their biking leathers like prunes in S&M gear, like life-sized PC Mattel biker toys, acting like real bikers with their pussy bikes with the trailers and the windshields.  I hate seeing the real bikers, because they’re always shattering my teeth with their loud ass bikes, and if I complain they’ll shatter my teeth with their big ass fists because they’re trying to make up for little dicks, and they always looked pissed off like some sand got caught in their chaps.  Both kinds take up parking spots that should be reserved for real people, and road space that should be reserved for real people.

 

BIKER FUCKS, YOU'VE JUST BEEN BOOFED!