"It's a bird...it's a plane...it's some douchebag's drone!"

This past weekend, I was enjoying a bicycle ride that took me through a state park north of the city.  As I marveled at the beauty surrounding me, a hawk took off from a low tree bough on the other side of the road and flew past me, nearly at eye level.  For a brief moment, our eyes seemed to lock, and it was as if the hawk and I were one creature, both participating in the miracle of flight.

But you know what would have made that moment even better?  IF THE SKY WAS FILLED WITH FUCKING DRONES:

Imagine having your own aerial videographer to record your every move while you're out on your next ride. Now imagine that same videographer wouldn't need any instruction and would shoot using the convenient GoPro camera you already own. Thanks to Airdog, the world's first autonomous personal action sports drone, this could well be a reality in the not-too-distant future.

Or, imagine just riding your fucking bike without having to watch a movie of your bike ride afterwards, and without polluting the airspace with your plastic toys.  Think of your favorite place to ride a bike and get away from it all.  Now imagine the sky above that place filled with the very same things they use to taunt Al Qaeda.

Of course, if your cycling exploits were in any way worth filming you wouldn't need a drone, because you'd be in the Tour de France and there would already be a freaking helicopter up there. Nevertheless, the Forces of Wankerdom have coughed up enormous amounts of money to insure that not one second of their pathetic lifestyle hobby goes undocumented:

The Airdog has just smashed its US$200,00 target on crowdsource funding site Kickstarter. To give you an idea of its popularity, the final figure raised was US$1,368,177, from more than 1,350 backers. 

It makes me sad that so many people need financial help in this world, yet a masturbatory aid for hobbyists raises $1.3 million in like five minutes.

In its defense, the Airdog is mostly intended for "action sports," and it does capture some pretty sweet footage:



Unfortunately, there are like sixteen people in the world who can perform these stunts, none of whom need this, because they are already being filmed by professionals.  This means the rest of the idiots will be using Airdog to film themselves riding $10,000 mountain bikes over small logs or attempting to hit Fred "Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" speed on the local Strava segment.

In any case, when there's a Kickstarter for the handlebar-mounted laser-guided surface-to-air missile system to blast these fucking things right out of the sky, I will be the very first person to donate--especially if it's also effective against deranged mayors:

So what happened?  Well, enraged by either the useless and shriveled genitals hiding beneath his distended beer gut, the fading paint on his aging Mercedes, the presence of a human on a bicycle, or most likely a synergistic effect caused by combining all three, this bloated shitbag decided to go and put a cyclist inna deeeitch:

The cyclist, Randy Murdick of Fenton, told the Post-Dispatch he was nearing the end of a 40-mile ride Tuesday afternoon when a man in a red Mercedes convertible came upon him on Old Gravois Road near Kennerly Road in Sunset Hills and matched his pace.

The man yelled for Murdick, 47, to “get off my .... roads,” including an expletive, Murdick said. After the man yelled the same thing multiple times, Murdick said he lost patience and yelled back at the driver, using an expletive himself.

The man then swerved into his bike, Murdick said, sending him tumbling to the pavement. He suffered multiple bruises and a cut.

Though here's what Robs-Fords-In-Training says:

Furrer disputes Murdick’s version. He said he was driving his red 1991 Mercedes 300SL convertible with the top down when the cyclist ran a stop sign and whipped around a corner. He said he yelled at the cyclist that he needed to stop at the sign, and the cyclist started shouting at him, using profanities.

See that?  He was just trying to be helpful.  But there's just no reasoning with "those people" and their "fancy bikes:"

“He caught me off guard, frankly,” Furrer said. “Because I would have expected him to stop. He came around the corner at a pretty good clip on some fancy bike. Frankly, it’s my mistake, I shouldn’t have engaged him and I tell everybody I know, never engage them.”

He tells everybody he knows never to engage cyclists?  You mean this sort of harassment has backfired on him before?  Incredible.  That's also why I tell everybody I know never to engage douchebags in German convertibles who may have been drinking at lunch:

"The investigation is still under way. It probably will not be completed until Friday and then we need to refer it to the city prosecutor for review," he says. "I'm not going to speculate about something I'm not sure I'm correct about...we want to be accurate."

The account immediately incensed fellow cyclists and others on social media, who demanded an explanation from Furrer on the mayor's Facebook page. The post that attracted the most comments -- which included a photo of Furrer at a restaurant called Gordo's Margaritas just prior to the incident -- was deleted, but here's a screengrab. The entire page now appears to be missing:

Nevertheless, Furrer insists he is "ready to vomit" over these accusations--though it seems more likely his nausea is attributable to all those drinks at Gordo's Margaritas.

Dick.

Lastly, here's the most neurotic thing I've read in a long time:

Air quality and latex tubes

Dear Lennard,
I wanted to add a contribution to your recent (and informative) column on latex tubes.

Ambient air quality is another factor that can adversely impact the life of latex tubes (and other bicycle parts made of natural rubber). As a rider/occasional racer in Southern California for nearly 25 years, I have long noticed accelerated cracking/crumbling of rubber goods, including latex tubes. It appears that chronic, high levels of air pollution, especially ozone, can play a significant role in the accelerated breakdown process. In Southern California, these conditions are most acute in the San Gabriel Valley and inland areas to the east. I’ve heard of cyclists storing expensive sew-ups in impermeable bags filled with nitrogen, but can’t personally attest to the effectiveness.
— Stuart

Ummm, duh.  That's why I store all my tires and tubes in an underground nitrogen-filled bunker 100 miles from the city.

I thought everyone did that.