The Fuck You Heroes
I live in Brooklyn, along with about 2.6 million other people. And yesterday, I chose to chain my bike to a fence owned by the one guy in Brooklyn with a electric cutter and a nasty, weird hatred for Kryptonite bike locks.
I just bought this bike, right? A 1975 Schwinn Continental. I love this bike. No, let me rephrase that. If this bike were a woman, I would definitely buy it a drink and leer drunkenly at its spokes all night. Now, it’s old and the gears are a little weird, but it's Laffy Taffy yellow and fast as fuck. Riding it instills me with a sense of freedom and independence I haven’t felt in a while. You see, I used to be a, erm, driver. You can’t see me right now, but I’ve got my eyes cast down and my shoulders are slumped. Yeah, I drove a Honda Accord all through high school and college and I regret the shit out of it. Luckily, I was way too irresponsible to continue being a car owner, and that ended in 2003. Details are irrelevant. Suffice to say the city of Washington, D.C. deemed me unworthy to continue operating a vehicle on their roads, and God bless them for it, eh? Damn right.
Anyway, so now I’m a biker and I’m immediately up in arms about all the disrespect my fellow bikers are forced to endure while living and riding in NYC. Seriously, I’ve been riding for maybe 3 days and already I’m all, “You can’t treat us that way, you fucks,” as if I were born with a bike chain strapped around my waist and grease permanently smeared on my face. But my rage makes sense when the city and the cops are single mindedly bent on making it as difficult as possible to bike the streets of New York. I’ve heard a plethora of stories about arrests and harassment. It’s sad and it pisses me off, because when you consider the alternative - belching SUVs cram
med together on the highways and byways, clogging the air with exhaust, increasing the rate of asthma and cancer among the population - it seems like a no-brainer. Ride a fucking bike. It’s good exercise, it’s better for the environment, it’s cheaper and you’ll feel better about yourself.
This just happened recently:
On July 18, 2006 the New York City Police Department proposed changing City rules regarding parade permits. The changes will put bike rides, walks, jogs and other events under the Police Department's direct control and will greatly discourage walking and biking.
Under the NYPD's proposed rules:
* Any group of two (yes, 2) or more cyclists or pedestrians traveling down a public street, who violate any traffic law, rule or regulation can be arrested for parading without a permit;
* Every group of 20 or more cyclists must obtain a permit and approved route from the NYPD;
* Every group of 35 of more pedestrians must obtain a permit and approved route from the NYPD.
This seriously fucks up positive, proactive events like Critical Mass, a monthly meet-up-and-ride event in Manhatten that is empowering when you see it and discouraging when you hear about the arrests and the venom and bile tossed at bikers by cops and drive-aholics.
But now I’m getting righteous and preachy. Fuck it. I don’t care. When that asshole with the electric cutter started moving menacingly toward my bike last night, a surge of righteous adrenaline coursed through me. I was fucking the Jesus Christ of bikes right then, halo over my head and divine fury in my heart.
“Hold up, that’s my bike,” I shouted.
“Get it off my fence,” he said, revving the cutter maliciously.
As I unlocked my bike, I said, “Get a fucking sign if you don’t want people parking their bikes on your fence!”
“I don’t need a sign,” he yelled back. “How would you like it if I locked my bike up in front of your house!”
“I wouldn’t give a flying fuck!!”
Alright, so maybe Jesus would have handled it differently, but the asshole did have a fucking electric cutter. I wasn’t going to aggravate him further.
It wasn’t until later, after a couple carafes of lime margarita and some delicious guacamole, that I noticed that his SUV was parked directly in front of a fire hydrant. Welcome to the United States of Hypocrisy.
[Photo by Seth Holiday]
I just bought this bike, right? A 1975 Schwinn Continental. I love this bike. No, let me rephrase that. If this bike were a woman, I would definitely buy it a drink and leer drunkenly at its spokes all night. Now, it’s old and the gears are a little weird, but it's Laffy Taffy yellow and fast as fuck. Riding it instills me with a sense of freedom and independence I haven’t felt in a while. You see, I used to be a, erm, driver. You can’t see me right now, but I’ve got my eyes cast down and my shoulders are slumped. Yeah, I drove a Honda Accord all through high school and college and I regret the shit out of it. Luckily, I was way too irresponsible to continue being a car owner, and that ended in 2003. Details are irrelevant. Suffice to say the city of Washington, D.C. deemed me unworthy to continue operating a vehicle on their roads, and God bless them for it, eh? Damn right.
Anyway, so now I’m a biker and I’m immediately up in arms about all the disrespect my fellow bikers are forced to endure while living and riding in NYC. Seriously, I’ve been riding for maybe 3 days and already I’m all, “You can’t treat us that way, you fucks,” as if I were born with a bike chain strapped around my waist and grease permanently smeared on my face. But my rage makes sense when the city and the cops are single mindedly bent on making it as difficult as possible to bike the streets of New York. I’ve heard a plethora of stories about arrests and harassment. It’s sad and it pisses me off, because when you consider the alternative - belching SUVs cram
med together on the highways and byways, clogging the air with exhaust, increasing the rate of asthma and cancer among the population - it seems like a no-brainer. Ride a fucking bike. It’s good exercise, it’s better for the environment, it’s cheaper and you’ll feel better about yourself.This just happened recently:
On July 18, 2006 the New York City Police Department proposed changing City rules regarding parade permits. The changes will put bike rides, walks, jogs and other events under the Police Department's direct control and will greatly discourage walking and biking.
Under the NYPD's proposed rules:
* Any group of two (yes, 2) or more cyclists or pedestrians traveling down a public street, who violate any traffic law, rule or regulation can be arrested for parading without a permit;
* Every group of 20 or more cyclists must obtain a permit and approved route from the NYPD;
* Every group of 35 of more pedestrians must obtain a permit and approved route from the NYPD.
This seriously fucks up positive, proactive events like Critical Mass, a monthly meet-up-and-ride event in Manhatten that is empowering when you see it and discouraging when you hear about the arrests and the venom and bile tossed at bikers by cops and drive-aholics.
But now I’m getting righteous and preachy. Fuck it. I don’t care. When that asshole with the electric cutter started moving menacingly toward my bike last night, a surge of righteous adrenaline coursed through me. I was fucking the Jesus Christ of bikes right then, halo over my head and divine fury in my heart.
“Hold up, that’s my bike,” I shouted.
“Get it off my fence,” he said, revving the cutter maliciously.
As I unlocked my bike, I said, “Get a fucking sign if you don’t want people parking their bikes on your fence!”
“I don’t need a sign,” he yelled back. “How would you like it if I locked my bike up in front of your house!”
“I wouldn’t give a flying fuck!!”
Alright, so maybe Jesus would have handled it differently, but the asshole did have a fucking electric cutter. I wasn’t going to aggravate him further.
It wasn’t until later, after a couple carafes of lime margarita and some delicious guacamole, that I noticed that his SUV was parked directly in front of a fire hydrant. Welcome to the United States of Hypocrisy.
[Photo by Seth Holiday]
posted by Ricardo at 3:34 PM
3 Comments:
I like how the phrase "flying fuck" is juxtaposed with the "flying flag" picture.
Also, Wikipedia has no Schwinn Continental entry. I nominate you.
You don't ride on the sidewalk, do you? Then we're fine.
And how did I know this guy drives an SUV?
Dude, how would you like it if I just did something outside your house that had absolutely no effect on you? How would you like that? Like if I stood on the sidewalk? Or breathed? Or stopped and tied my shoe?
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