All the Road’s A-Rage, and We Are Merely Cyclists

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that riding a bicycle on urban streets is a risky proposition in most cities in America. In my city, Austin, Texas, we have a decent amount of bicycle infrastructure. Better than some, worse than others. Amsterdam it’s not, and we still have to contend with all manner of things that could drive one to drink. Number one is drunk or otherwise distracted drivers. And a lot of those people aren’t swigging booze, they’re guzzling down the rage-ahol. And sometimes when things go badly, we cyclists get plenty angry, too. To quote the original Dr. Bruce Banner to the reporter Jack“Mr. McGee, don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

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Homelessness Has Him House Hunting; Hounds of Hell at Heels

In last Cinco de Mayo’s post Moving A Dude’s Abode and Body: A Buddhist View, I ruminated on what it means to have to go live somewhere else. Two abodes later, and I’m having to do it again, as I alluded in my previous post about Mark Cavendish. Who, by the way, put a cherry on the cake and made it four wins in eight stages at the Tour of Turkey. The alternative is homelessness, or more accurately, houselessness, both of which, like the hounds of hell, bite big time. What’s a dude to do? Well, keep on searching, for one thing. And write a blog about it for a little anger management and stress relief, for another.

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