Theodora Elucubrare

I cycle in Prospect Park sometimes when they force me to. Cross-training and all that.


In summer, this is not fun. There are too many people, and 3/4 of them (being generous there) are idiots, like the kids I almost killed going twenty-six miles an hour at the bottom of the hill. But anyway, the park's kind of like a feudal kingdom, except for our lack of a king.

No, really.

You see, the racing cyclists are like the landed nobility, and most of them owe allegiance to a club - their overlord. People like me, who have the racing bike and cleats and stuff but no club are either knights or mercenaries. Casual bikers are the bourgoisie, and horse people and cars are the clergy - they're lazy bastards, but the rest of us have to give way to them. Pedestrians are the pesantry, and they're getting uppity - always stopping right in the middle of the road. Sometimes, if I didn't know it would hurt me as much as them, I'd like to give in to my inner 18th century French nobleman and "Run them down!"

And that is what I thought about for thirteen miles.