Freeman
Freeman

I accomplished a life goal recently: I finally saw a semi crash into a car. The truck was turning, and the car ran a red light. Nothing exploded and nobody died, but it still counts. The bro driving the hatchback wanted to get his baggy-jeaned ass kicked, but the trucker was cool and collected. I assumed fists would fly right away.

I bike for about an hour every day of the week, so I see some wild stuff during my treks. Way too often, I see impatient drivers rush to make a turn and almost hit a blind person or somebody in a wheelchair and their guide dog.

It's not all dangerous stupidity I witness while I'm on the road. One crossing guard says hello to me every morning, and a different one grumbles every second. I've seen more than enough weirdos "having me time" while parked. And lots of boys still sag their pants like it was 1998. I can't really judge because I did that, too, when I was a teenager. But also, it's not 1998 anymore.

I watch the same parents walking their children to and from school. I think that's a great chance for them to ask their kid about their day, homework, best friend, favorite lunch or whatever. Instead, Mom and Dad walk while glued to their phones. I think this should be a prequel to a douchebag intervention.


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There's a spot on my daily ride that seems to be a dumping point for spent bullet casings or an impromptu shooting range. Those shiny cylinders appear and disappear, so I never know if I should call the law.

To keep myself busy, I play "The Roadkill Game." Whenever I see certain kinds of trash on the street, I give myself points. For a while, I tried doing this with beer bottles and cans, but supercomputers can't count that high.

I score 10 points for a stuffed animal, one point for a piece of clothing, 10 points for a matching pair of clothing and five points for roadkill. There's an interesting variety of roadkill. I don't cry to much seeing pigeons and rats smashed apart, but bunnies and squirrels almost get a tear from me.

What's sadder than a smashed squirrel on the street? I saw a squirrel that was flattened in January, and the city didn't clean it up until last week. It looked like beef jerky covered in hair.

I watch the world around me. I beg drivers on their phones or running red lights: I know you don't have to like me or my kind, but please watch out for cyclists. I'd prefer not to be part of somebody's roadkill game.

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