I hate bikers.
No no no. It’s not what you think. I love Sturgis and Harley-Davidson and having a sweet hog underneath my cone. I guess, more accurately, I hate cyclists.
I grew up outside Washington, DC in a town called Reston, Virginia. If you don’t know much about us, just know we are a planned community and even allow bicycles on walking trails. Walking trails! If you’re going to walk then walk. If you’re going to wimp out and use wheels then just buy a fucking car. (Pardon my language.)
I just don’t get it. What the hell is a cyclist? Someone who buys tight pants, a tight shirt and a damn aerodynamic helmet just to get from one place to the next. Hell, some of them even ride on rocks and trails in the mountains!
It is bad enough that cyclists take over nature with their compromised machines (just buy a dirt bike dirt bags!). Now, now, they demand (lobby for) dedicated bike lanes in cities and communities all across the US. Yet, I would like to see more signs like the one below on our streets and in our hearts.
Unfortunately, we have no Cone representation in any form of government. So I do what I can to protest the parasitic, ever-growing presence of detestable cyclists.
I can’t stand them. So I lie down against them.
I am Cone Alone.