The route I followed more or less described that of last year's BSNYC Pre-Fondon't-Turned-Actual-Fondon't. By the way, if you're wondering whether or not there will be a Fondon't this year (pre- or otherwise), the answer is an emphatic "Dunno."
So there you have it.
Anyway, as I stood in the spot where I took that photo a gentleman out perambulating with his dog stopped to offer his opinion on my bicycle and on bike routes in general. More specifically, he felt that even with the new bike path opening on the Tappan Zee soon that Route 9 should not be upgraded to include a bike lane. He felt his views on these matters carried great weight because he "used to be a cyclist," and I've noticed that when I'm riding up in the suburbs I encounter a lot of these used-to-ride types who get transported into a sort of reverie by the sight of my bike. I then find myself wondering why they no longer ride since they live in an area where opportunities to do so abound, but then I remember two things: 1) Not everybody is a semi-professional bike blogger who can fuck off for a ride on a semi-regular basis; and 2) I don't really care that much.
Finishing my snack and my conversation I then remounted and headed over to the Old Croton Aqueduct, which serves as the trunk route for most of my rides:
The OCA is a state park, and of course motor vehicles are emphatically not allowed on it--not that it stops people necessarily. For example, here's a fuckwit from a few months ago who apparently got stuck in the mud and decided to leave his car there for a few days:
I'm sure he was up to important park business for the city of Yonkers:
The tracks, by the way, are still there--deep gashes in the trail--and as I approached that very same section this past Sunday I was deeply perturbed to find someone engaged in the act of driving on it:
The driver was creeping along slowly, and in front of the car was a woman dressed as though she'd just gotten out of bed, shuffling along like an extra from "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest."
Baffled and angry at the same time, I beseeched the driver open his window then informed him that this was a state park and he was not allowed to be driving here. Robotically, he replied that he knew. I then asked if there was a reason he was driving here. Robotically, he replied that there was, but it was none of my concern. I then looked at the woman shuffling in front of the car and second-guessed myself: maybe she was mentally ill and I'd happened upon some some sort of intense personal drama. Maybe she'd threatened to kill herself, plodded off into the woods, and he was tailing her until the police arrived. So I asked him if there was a problem and if he needed any help. Robotically he informed me that he did not. So I told him I'd be making a call and asked if he minded if I took a picture. Robotically he replied, "Yes, I do," to which I replied "Tough" and took the photo above.
Armed with the plate number, I then headed to the nearest intersection with a road to call 911, and as I was riding away the woman returned to the car and made the following ebullient announcement to the driver:
"I found them! I found my keys!"
Holy fucking shit, it all made sense now. Cuckoo's Nest had been looking for her keys and Douchebag Arigato Mister Roboto was her escort. Here she is getting back in the car just after making the announcement:
Like any human being I have my share of regrets. I try not to dwell on them, but it's impossible not to think about the opportunities that have slipped through my fingers over the years. For example, I wish I'd gotten in on the Google IPO. I wish I hadn't laughed off the price of Manhattan real estate in the '90s. I wish I'd worn earplugs to the shows and concerts I attended as a teenager.
However, my biggest regret by far is not having immediately returned to that car, yanked the keys out of her hand, and thrown them as hard as I could into the fucking woods.
Instead, I called 911, and I continued my ride because 1) I had to get home; and B) I knew there would be no satisfactory outcome, so at least if I left I could fantasize that the police actually showed up and ticketed this asshole.
By the way, if I'm not doing a good job of conveying how lazy and inconsiderate these people are to be driving on a state park, consider how close they were to the nearest road:
These assholes couldn't have parked the fucking car and walked?!? I mean presumably she was walking when she lost the keys in the first place.
Alas, the coyote scare 'round these parts may be over, but I don't think it's insensitive to hope that the next time these two visit the OCA wild dogs latch onto their genitals and don't let go.
It's only fair.
30 comments:
First? With comment moderation, you never know...
I could have been a contender!
keep your woody out of the woods and where it belongs
Not being a semi-professional bike blogger that made a potentially short-sided public New Year's Resolution, I can't be sure but that looks like neither a Renovo nor a Marin in pic#1. How's the running coming along?
But did you otherwise enjoy your outing?
Top ten without a helment
It's the Renovo cleverly disguised as a Milwaukee to throw off the coyotes. They crave artisanal blends of wood and carbon fiber.
haha yeah, this year's grand fondon't is gonna be a marathon instead.
I think it's the Milwaukee. Also, quick vote. tell me in the comments which dubious claim makes your eyes roll the most (and there are no wrong answers). 1) 'I used to be a cyclist." 2) "I am a cyclist." or 3) "I used to be a messenger."
What I like about the Transalt home page, is the composition of the photo that leads my eyes to the orange top worn by the woman at the center of the photo. (OTOH, I'd probably find her if she were hiding in the lower right-hand corner)
weeeeeed.
I used to be a driver, and I don't think they should have so many lanes for motor vehicles on the Tappan Zee Bridge, and instead have an equestrian lane in each direction to take their place.
Is it too insensitive to hope "the OCA wild dogs latch onto their genitals and don't let go"? Yes! Think about those poor suffering wild dogs. Why should they be punished by having to latch onto the genitals of the Robo-Nest couple? Super rude!
The anaphylactic allergic reaction to the fendered PineMountain, with the resulting angioedma the only relief some of our aesthetic absolutists find for the visual violence visited upon them, would seem ample vindication to allow for the Milwaukee w/fenders as humane substitute. But alas, no fenders.
janinedm:
definitely #3
Also,
When I was a teenager just getting into bike racing I met an older gentleman that said he "used to race." With typical teenage cynicism I asked where and he proceeded to tell me about 6 day racing on the Madison Square Gardens Velodrome: racing for 12 hours a day, taking drugs to stay awake but still falling asleep on the bike and crashing on the wooden track, the crowds, the smoke, the groupies. That guy had some great stories.
Dear Mr. @BSNYC -
My dog informs me that he knows some wild dogs who take on genital biting work. He says it can be arranged, but it could be pricey.
Dear Ms. @janinedm -
My dog informs me that the dubious claim eye roll factor is contingent upon the claimant's use of the adjectives "avid" or "professional."
Which is odd because I was sure he was going to say "rabid."
What kind of ruts would the renovo leave on the OCA given it's tranny?
More importantly, did the 911 operator take your call seriously?
Used to be a motorcyclist ... nah, I got nothing.
I’d like to see this visual given the bikesknob treatment. https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/Had-our-human-ancestors-taken-to-the-sea-we-12782313.php#photo-15293074
You missed a step: 1) yank keys; 2) key car with keys; 3) heave keys into fucking woods
car exhaust smells bad!
I'd have been tempted to approach them singing the teddy bear song, then have given them the aforementioned big surprise
I'm proud to say that once, after being almost run over on a pedestrian crossing and then abused by the driver, I did lose my mind, grab keys from ignition of the running car and throw them into a railway siding. Still feels good now, although glad I didn't end up in the siding with them.
"Omigod! I can't find my keys. D4V3, where are they?" THIS UNIT HAS SEARCHED THE DOMICILE AND YOUR KEYS ARE NOT PRESENT "Omigod, I must have lost them when I went running with Tyffanee yesterday! D4V3, get the Honda and we'll drive up there!" THE ROAD IN QUESTION IS FORBIDDEN FOR AUTOMOBILES "Screw that, you mechanical moron! I need my damn keys!!! Omigod, get that through your synthetic skull!" MYLADY, YOU ARE NOT PROPERLY DRESSED. "This is an emergency, numb nuts! And I have special powers. Of entitlement. Never forget that!" YES MY LADY.
Should have absolutely grabbed keys from robe lady and thrown them into the woods. And then when they ran into the woods after them, take the CRV keys and throw them in the opposite direction.
Sorry I'm a day late. Irregular posting schedule has made me irregular in my checking for new postings.
i get a warm fuzzy feeling from this blog's general zone. that's not just because it has stopped raining for one second here in the pnw. love you people!
number 1) ingrown hair joke, (mean i know).
number 2) but i'm driving right now, 'cause you can't run over a manatee on a pedal bike.
number 3) mad props to those who still "curry"! not you tho', food-square carrying "disruptor", get a hotdog cart.
I would not have to spoken to those two...they're nuts! Seriously, Wildcat, I'm assuming willfully clueless people are armed and dangerous.
Illegitimi non carborundum, wildcat rock machine.
Thanks for post:
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